


The Search for the Missing Piece!

by Shadowinplainsight



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen, Kidnapping, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowinplainsight/pseuds/Shadowinplainsight
Summary: Huey, Dewey, and Louie had never even heard of another set of triplets before. Still, they had never much thought about what that could mean until one of them was taken. With their Uncles desperate and few leads but the connection between them, the boys will do anything to be reunited. And if a few mysteries about their lives would be brought to light, they'd face them the way they always had: As a family.Diverges from Canon right before "The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!"





	1. Nightmares Like a Hurricane!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So, it's been literally forever since I've written FanFiction ever since life started getting in the way, but lately I've been having the urge to write, and I've recently become obsessed with the _DuckTales_ reboot. Anywho, this idea just won't stop bouncing around my head, so I decided I would finally get back into the game and try to put it on paper.
> 
> This story's been hosted on FF.net until now, but I thought I'd move it over here, too :) Important notes about how this fic fits in to the timeline an continuity can be found in the end notes!
> 
> Lastly, obviously, all _DuckTales_ rights belong to people who are infinitely more talented than I am, and this is simply a work of fan fiction.

Chapter 1~Nightmares Like a Hurricane!

 

Huey was having a nightmare.

He was almost used to it at this point. Huey had come to expect to find himself drowning in quicksand, trying to hold his breath while distantly hearing Louie tell Webby not to tell him how to die. Even 'Dream Huey', as he'd come to think of himself while unconscious, was no longer surprised when everything went dark on the bus he was riding before it transformed into a subway car and the roof began to cave in on him, suddenly alone with nothing but his _Junior Woodchucks' Guidebook_ , which was, of course, frustratingly blank.

He was only _almost_ used to it, though, because his dreams kept finding new ways of frightening him. He was still waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night more often than not. Less than a week ago Huey had dreamt that they were back in Macaw at The House of the Lucky Fortune, and that the illusion had once again fallen away. This time, however, Toad Liu Hai had chosen Huey and Louie instead of Donald and Gladstone. What was worse, though, was that once the race had started, 'Dream Huey' had wanted to _beat_ Louie. Even though he knew what it could mean for his brother, he wanted to _win_. Worse yet, one look at 'Dream Louie''s face confirmed to Huey that he wasn't the only one who didn't care if the other made it out of there. He was fuzzy on the details now, but at the time Huey couldn't help but feel like they both genuinely wanted to hurt each other. Even after 'Dream Dewey' had miraculously arrived to intervene only to be dragged off in chains by the luck demon for interfering, it was the intense sense of mutual hatred he had felt that haunted Huey when he awoke. It left him feeling indescribably sad, emotionally drained, and desperately in need of giving Louie a hug, and that absolutely could not have waited until morning.

Tonight, though—tonight was different.

Huey was camping with his Junior Woodchucks and it was the Father/Son trip. He was there with Uncle Scrooge, because Uncle Donald had had a job interview. It was early afternoon and Launchpad was still the troop leader, but that was where his dream stopped lining up with reality. Webby was there with Mrs. Beakley and Louie was there, ironically, with Uncle Donald. Dewey was there as well, but he was standing with an older female duck that Huey just couldn't seem to get a good look at. He'd thought that he would be happy to see his brothers back in their Junior Woodchuck uniforms after they'd quit four years ago, but he'd forgotten how identical Dewey and Louie were with them on. When they'd been little ducklings they had thought it was funny, like some sort of cool magic trick that the three of them could pull off, but this night for some reason it unnerved Huey so much so that he thought he might be sick. He could physically feel a sense of unease coiling queasily at his core.

 _Look!_ he heard Uncle Scrooge say, _there it is! The Duckburg Giant Butterfly!_

He quickly lurched toward the nearest tree, needing something solid to support his weight.

 _Huey!_ his brothers said in unison. Huey lifted his head to face them, still trying to fill his lungs with air. _Is everything okay?_ They had moved closer to him and away from the adults. _You look like you're gonna be sick!_

Huey stared at the two of them for a few moments before he suddenly realized that he couldn't tell his brothers apart. In an instant, the air around him was entirely too stale, and he just needed to get away from the situation. He started to climb the maple tree he'd been leaning on, intent on getting up to somewhere he could breathe more easily.

 _Hey, Mr. McDuck!_ He heard Webby cry, _Look! Huey's climbing a tree!_

 _Huey, don't! Get down from there!_ he heard his great uncle say, but it sounded far away. There were too many of them trying to breathe the same air down on the ground. Huey just need to have some space until his ears stopped ringing.

 _Is Huey gonna hurt himself?_ he heard his brothers say, again at the same time. _Dude, get down!_

He wanted to yell at them to _shut up!_ and to _stop doing that!,_ because it was _really freaking me out!_ , but he was having a hard enough time keeping his grip on the branches as it was, and he worried that the extra exertion might cause him to fall.

 _No_ —he heard Scrooge reply— _it's just that eagles don't like it when you get too close to their nests!_

Oh, right. Huey had forgotten about this part. _Uncle Scrooge! Uncle Donald!_ he yelled as he felt himself being lifted by his neckerchief, _HELLLLP ME!_

Unfortunately for 'Dream Huey', there was no second eagle for his uncle to to use to rescue him this time, and he watched in disbelief as the ground fell farther and farther away beneath him until he could no longer make out his family and could just barely hear Dewey and Louie calling for him. Huey had only a few moments of silence, however, before the eagle had decided to drop him and he was rapidly falling back to Earth. He tried quickly flapping his wings in desperation, but it had little effect on the speed of his plummet.

It was a surprise then, of course, when he hit the ground and harmlessly bounced off of it. He bounced a few more times before steadying himself, realizing he was now standing outside of the Waddle HQ. The air was here clear and easy to breathe, but Huey could only enjoy it for a moment before he was grabbed from behind and a firm fist clamped down around his beak.

 _Sorry, Master Duck,_ the voice of Falcon Graves whispered in his ear, _but with Beaks out of the picture, I'm afraid I'm going to have to resort to another method to collect my salary today._

 _'_ Dream Huey' struggled, but, against the fully grown espionage agent, the ten-year-old's strength was negligible. He was promptly and very easily tossed into a broom closet, only to hit the ground and open his eyes in an entirely different room.

Not only was he now back in the meat locker at Funso's FunZone, but he was tied up again.

Huey gulped and took a deep breath. _You're going to be fine_ , he tried to tell himself. _Everything worked out just fine the last time this happened._ Of course, last time he hadn't been alone. Webby had been there to save the them. Dewey and Louie had been there to stop him from freaking out. They'd been fine.

It was at this time that 'Dream Huey' finally came to the conclusion that he was probably, in fact, dreaming. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to wake himself up, not breaking his concentration until he realized the floor beneath him had grown cold and damp.

He gasped and jumped up, suddenly free with the ropes nowhere in sight. However, that wasn't the relief it should have been once Huey took in his surroundings. For the first time that night, he had no idea where he was. The floor was metal and slightly wet while the surrounding dark walls were made of some type of stone. There were no windows and the only door in the room lacked a handle. A small lamp mounted by the door was the sole source of light, and it was only really successful in casting eerie shadows. Huey tried again in vain to wake up, but the harder he tried the more real the nightmare room felt. He was beginning to give up and tears had begun to form in his eyes when he heard a voice that somehow filled the room and yet made no sound at all.

 _Hubert_ , it echoed. Huey felt a shiver run down his spine, but it was more comforting than frightful. The duckling couldn't help but think it sounded like his Uncle Donald. _Don't be afraid. It's just a dream. Try to ignore them. I'm sorry. You can wake up now._

And, like a light switch had been flipped, he finally could.

* * *

Huey had already bolted upright before his eyes flew open, hyperventilating and still feeling damp to his core. He looked under his bunk to make sure Dewey was still in his bed, and sure enough Huey's breathing began to steady as soon as he spotted the feathers on his brother's head sticking straight up overtop of his pillow, brushing the headboard. Louie, for his part, had his head at the foot of Dewey's bed, equipped with his own pillows as well as two he had "borrowed" from Dewey. He had one leg dangling precariously off the side while the other foot was awkwardly lying across Dewey's legs, preventing either triplet from properly accessing the blankets. Dewey was sleeping on his back, snoring softly with his beak open wide enough to catch flies, while Louie was stretched out like a cat and had a look of contentment on his face so serene that neither of his brothers could ever hope to replicate it. In that moment they were as distinct as could be, in his opinion, and Huey almost wanted to take a picture of them as _Exhibit A_ for the next time someone dare accuse them of being identical. But right now he was still shivering and the dark of their bedroom was closing in on him, and what Huey really needed was his brothers.

He climbed down the ladder and got into the middle bunk as gently as possible. "Dewey," Huey whispered, only shaking him a little. "Dewey, wake up."

"Morning to you too, Huey," he said groggily after only a few seconds, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Dewey had never been a heavy sleeper. "What's up?"

"Shhh," Huey said, placing his index feather on his brother's bill. "Don't wake up Louie."

"What?" Dewey asked, brushing Huey's wing out of his face but still now whispering. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, I just had a nightmare," he blushed, feeling a little embarrassed about the whole ordeal now that Dewey was awake. "It's just that I woke him up a few nights ago over one and I don't wanna bother him again. I made him get out of bed and everything."

"You mean your Liu Hai dream?" Dewey asked. Huey tried not to flinch as he nodded in response. "Dude, you woke _me_ up for that one, too."

"Yeah, but not on purpose," Huey said, though he knew his brother was right. He was pretty sure he'd been unintelligibly sobbing at the time. "It's not my fault you couldn't sleep through a mouse snoring, though you seem to ignore your own just fine." Huey felt a smile cross his face as he joked at his brother's expense, and Dewey laughed in response. "Besides," Huey continued, "Louie wakes you up basically every night anyway."

"Not every night," Dewey laughed again, not commenting on Huey's obvious redirection of the conversation. "If I remember to leave my pillows on the ground, he doesn't have to rip them out from under me!"

"Well then," Huey was having a hard time giggling quietly at this point. More than once he'd woken up to the sound of Dewey hitting the floor when Louie had tried a little too forcefully to get the cushions he had decided Dewey wasn't really using. "Maybe it's your turn to wake _him_ up."

Dewey grinned and, cupping one hand around Louie's ear, yelled, "HEY, LOUIE!"

At this point Huey was openly laughing and having a hard time containing it. This was only magnified when their brother only grunted and rolled over in response. Louie, now in the fetal position and holding a clump of blankets and sheets like a teddy bear he had managed to cocoon himself in, apparently was unfazed by his brothers' efforts. Their twinned peals of laughter filled their bedroom, and they were quickly trying to shush each other so as not to wake anyone else in the manor. Once they had managed to quiet themselves, Dewey gave Huey a sideways glance and they both nodded, each grabbing a corner of Dewey's covers. On the count of three they gave a hard tug, twisting the fabric around and Louie along with it.

This finally did it, and the third triplet reluctantly opened his eyes as well and began to stretch. "Guys?" he yawned, smoothing the feathers on top of his head before sitting up. "What time is it? Why do I feel like I just did a lap in the dryer?"

"You were hogging all the blankets," Huey laughed, punching him lightly.

"And our big brother Huey here had a nightmare!" Dewey said, quickly putting his wing around Huey's shoulders. Huey shrugged it off and glared at him. He had almost forgotten his dream by that point, and rehashing it with the two of them was suddenly the last thing he wanted to do.

"Another one?" Louie asked, managing to look both concerned and annoyed at the same time. "Didn't you just have that luck vampire one the other night?"

"Yes," Huey said, "and I'd really rather not talk about it again." He was beginning to think he should have just tried to go back to sleep.

"He's been having them almost every night lately."

"What! I mean, yeah, but… Dewey!" Huey stammered. He wasn't sure why he didn't want his brothers to know his dreams were scaring him, but he felt legitimately hurt that they both now knew.

"Well, what?" Dewey said, "It was your idea to wake him up anyway. Was I just not supposed to tell Louie that our brother is having serious sleeping issues?"

"No, but… ," Huey sighed.

Louie blinked a few times before he spoke again. He had just woken up, and really wanted to get back to sleep, but he could tell his brothers both needed him to say something. It wasn't like Huey not to want to talk about something that had happened to him. After a half dozen sentences fell dead on his tongue, he simply leaned forward and said, "That bad, huh?"

Huey looked up at him. "Well, yeah. I've been trying not to bother you guys, because it's really been messing with my sleep schedule, but I can't even remember the last time I had a good night's sleep and I didn't want it to start getting to you guys, too."

"Classic Huey," Louie laughed. "Only you would be plagued by some sort of nightmare curse and worry instead about our sleep schedules."

"Curse?" Huey squeaked. He hadn't thought of that, but he really didn't like the idea of being cursed. He'd managed to avoid that until now, and really was hoping to keep that streak going.

"It's not a curse," Dewey said, now standing on Louie's bed and trying to fix the covers without telling his brothers to move. "Scrooge has, like, a bajillion dollars invested in magical curse protection. If you were cursed, I'm, like, 200% positive he would've dealt with it."

"You're probably right," Huey said, feeling slightly better.

"I'm definitely right," Dewey said, climbing back into bed, "and, if you're still worrying in the morning, we can ask Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald about it, okay?"

"Okay," Huey said. His brother had a way of talking that made Huey believe Dewey knew exactly what to do in any situation.

"Yeah, 'cause those two have never been anything but open and honest with us, and would never omit anything that might be important," Louie said, rolling his eyes lazily as if he weren't fully committed to his sarcasm.

"Not helpful right now, Louie."

"Oh come on, they've been trying really hard lately," Huey added, though in the back of his mind he knew Louie had a point as well.

"Speaking of open honesty," Dewey said, interrupting Huey's thoughts, "what were you dreaming about tonight?"

Huey shifted uncomfortably, but when he realized Louie was also looking at him expectantly, he knew he should probably just tell them. He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant, but he supposed he just didn't want to relive it.

"It'll make you feel better to talk about it," Dewey prompted again, laying back on his pillow.

Huey breathed deeply in and out before he started. "It was just, like, a hurricane of so many things that have gone wrong on our adventures, except every time the day was supposed to turn for the better, I was suddenly in a worse situation," he had to breathe again to steady himself. "The details are pretty fuzzy already, but I remember feeling like I was just so alone, no matter where I ended up and what I tried to do."

"Well, that's just a dumb dream. Not believable at all," Louie chimed in. His brothers looked at him quizzically. He laid back and stretched out along the foot of the bed once again. "I mean, when, in the past ten years, have any of us ever been alone?" Huey smiled, knowing his brother's statement was more true than most people would appreciate. "I mean, geez, I'll take the loneliness nightmares for a couple nights! I can't even shake you two nerds when I'm dreaming."

This made Huey smile again, and he lay back and started to get comfortable, finally feeling warm, dry, and safe once more. "Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?" he asked, honestly to the both of them.

"Fine by me," Louie said, turning to face the footboard, "but no kicking!"

Dewey sighed, but Huey knew he was doing it for comedic effect. "Welcome to La Cama del Dewey! The most popular bed around! Luxury blue sheets! It may only be meant to fit one duck, and you may have a perfectly good one literally right below us, _Louis_ , but there's always room for one more!"

"That's not even my name," he said sleepily. Dewey snickered in response. Huey took the moment to take back one of the many pillows, and Louie reacted as one would to a mosquito. Huey was pretty sure Louie was already asleep by the time he had tucked himself in.

"Thanks, Dew," Huey said, "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," Dewey said, fighting back yawns once again, "but now you need to go back to sleep, so that I can go back to sleep. Okay?"

"Okay," Huey said, closing his eyes and rolling onto his side. He could feel some of Dewey's feathers brushing against his leg and Louie's weight on the covers. The concrete evidence of his triplets' presence was more soothing than any lullaby could ever hope to be.

"Hey, Huey?" Dewey said.

"Yeah?" Huey replied

"I hope you have some nice dreams tonight, dude, or at least no dreams at all," Dewey paused and waited for a minute, as if he was trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "And you should know that no matter what comes at us in life, we'll face it as a family. Just like we always have, we always will."

"Duck Boys forever!" Louie cried languidly, obviously mostly asleep but still as enthusiastic as he could muster.

Huey didn't reply; he just smiled and let sleep take him as soon as Dewey's snores began to fill the silence. They would always have each other, and united they could face anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it: The first chapter of _The Search for The Missing Piece!_ Bonus points to anyone who can tell me where the beginning of Huey's dream comes from.
> 
> So before we really start, I feel I should clarify for now and future readers that I started writing this during the hiatus between "The Impossible Summit of Mount Neverrest!" and "The Spear of Selene!", so that's all the information I was working with when I outlined most of this story. Anywho, this story begins right before "The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!". From that point on, this story is going to split from the show's timeline. Even though we know the answer to the Della mystery now, I'm still gonna stick with my original plan for it, although I may tweak things a bit to make it a little closer to canon. I'll try to keep things as true to canon as possible, but my number one priority is writing a great story
> 
> All right, until next time!
> 
> xo Shadow
> 
> P.S. You know, this'd probably be adorable as a fluffy one shot. If all you want out of this is fluff, then I advise you enjoy this chapter as-is and maybe don't continue on! But if you do stick around, I'm planning big things for this story. Big things!


	2. The Last Tuesday of March in McDuck Manor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for sticking around past the fluff! 
> 
> Without further adieu, I do not own _DuckTales_ , but I hope you all enjoy what I come up with!

Chapter 2~The Last Tuesday of March in McDuck Manor!

 

By the time Dewey woke up that morning, he actually had his entire bed to himself for once. He was used to Huey getting up bright and early, but it was rare for Louie to wake up before he did. Dewey decided to enjoy the rare opportunity to fully stretch out under his covers, and would have been content to sleep in for another hour or two. These plans were dashed, however, when he heard his bedroom door quietly click open. He could tell right away from the delicate, calculated footfall who was there. He briefly wondered if Uncle Scrooge would be impressed.

"Dewey?" Webby whispered, so loud she may as well have been yelling. "Are you awake yet?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her, propping himself up on his side. "Well, Webbs," he yawned, "I'm not sleeping anymore."

"Oh, that's great!" she said, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Huey and Louie told me I was only allowed to come in here if you were already awake." Dewey snickered a little and rolled his eyes, but Webby didn't seem to notice as she continued to talk at him. "Granny's making pomegranate pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and I said that we should come get you, but Huey and Louie said I should let you sleep." She was looking more around the room than at Dewey, he noticed, as if the triplets' bedroom was as interesting to her as some discovered island or unearthed tomb. "Louie said that you wouldn't mind if they ate your breakfast, but I said that we should ask you first. Louie told me I didn't have to, but I said I didn't mind at all, and that's when Huey told me not to wake you up, and Louie agreed."

Dewey was fully sitting up now. He smirked at his friend while he watched her pace around their room, picking things up and examining them before putting them back exactly where she'd found them; running her index feather along the thick layer of dust in the windowsill; and examining the spines of a few books, mostly Huey's, in the boys' shared bookshelf. Her curiosity had won out and she was exploring, but Dewey didn't think she even realized she was doing it. She was still talking.

"So I told them I was just going to see if you were awake, and then Louie told me I wasn't allowed to go into your guys' room alone, which, obviously, makes no sense since you're here. But then Huey told me that I should probably try and stay away from people when they're sleeping. Apparently it's an etiquette thing? But, like, what if there were a flood, or a demon attack, or unsafe levels of carbon monoxide in the house? Anyway, I promised them I wouldn't come in here unless you were already awake, which you said you were, so can Louie eat your breakfast?" she asked, not stopping to look at him.

"Huh? Oh, right. Well, first of all, definitely always wake me up for all of those things," he said, "and, um, also you can tell Huey and Louie that they can have my pancakes, but if they touch my bacon they die." Webby's eyes widened and then she nodded solemnly before Dewey added, "That's a joke, Webby."

"Oh! Right! Of course it is. Ha! A joke! I knew that. Who wouldn't know that?" Webby dropped the backpack she'd been looking through as if she had only just realized what she was doing. "Sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to go through your bag!"

"It's totally fine," he laughed. "It's Huey's anyhow."

"But it's blue!" she said before looking like she regretted doing so.

Dewey raised an eyebrow at her sarcastically. "And?"

Webby grinned sheepishly at him and gave a small shrug.

"Huey bought it for himself because he liked the strap support or something."

"Yeah, that sounds more like a Huey thing, all right. This width is pretty close to optimal for decreasing strain on the lower back. Okay, well, tell him I didn't see any of his books or dolls or anything—" she stammered, again speaking before her brain caught up to what she was saying, "I—I mean, if he has—not that I would know—"

"They're action figures," Dewey laughed. " _Starling Wars_ action figures. Uncle Donald got us each one for our birthday two years ago. Louie was super jealous that Huey got Swan Solo, especially since Uncle D got him a Princess Rhea for some reason. I'm pretty sure he just gave her to Huey. Luke was always my favourite, though! Wouldn't it be awesome to have powers like that?" Dewey noticed that the reference seemed to be lost on Webby, and that she was still looking noticeably uncomfortable while he had been talking. "Don't worry, Webbs, we'll watch it. Also I won't tell Huey you snooped through his bag. Former Woodchuck's honour." He gave her a mock salute and she giggled and then sighed in relief.

"Thanks," she said.

"Don't even mention it," he smirked. "Now go back downstairs before Louie decides he has rights your breakfast, too. I'll be down in, like, fifteen minutes."

"He knows I'll end him if he touches my pancakes," she chirped matter-of-factly, making her way to the door. Dewey thought she was probably a tad more serious in this threat than he had been. "You know," she said on her way out, "I never would have expected Louie to be the one who neatly makes his bed in the morning."

Dewey glanced up at Huey's bed, which had his top sheet pinned to the ceiling as a makeshift tent. Dewey's pillows were everywhere and the sheets were on the floor while his blanket had been twisted at an awkward angle. It was mostly, of course, Louie's fault, and Dewey laughed at the irony of her statement. "Yeah," he said, "Lou keeps his in pretty mint condition."

He could have sworn he heard her writing notes once she was out view.

Webby hadn't closed the door on her way out, so Dewey dragged himself out of bed and across the room to do so. The smell of breakfast wafted in, and he felt his stomach growl in anticipation. He knew Mrs. Beakley would make him more pancakes once she'd noticed his brothers had eaten them all, and he'd rather have fresh ones anyway. Deciding not to get out of his pyjamas quite yet, Dewey instead headed to the bathroom to wash his face before he went downstairs to eat.

Walking past the heavy mahogany door to Scrooge's study, Dewey could make out the sound of his two uncles having a rather passionate conversation on the other side. It could have been an argument, but between one uncle's thick Scottish brogue and the other's… distinctive manner of speaking, it was impossible to be sure. They could also easily be excited, or despondent, or simply discussing the weather. In any case, even if it were an argument, minor spats were far from out of the ordinary between the two drakes, and Dewey knew that they never amounted to much. No one wanted to lose another ten years. He only tried to make out their words for a few more moments before deciding it was impossible and moving on.

Getting to the guest bathroom, Dewey closed the door and immediately ran the tap to splash cold water on his face in an attempt to shake the leftover sleep clinging to him. He dried off and looked in the mirror, slightly taken aback by how tired how looked this morning. He hadn't really cared at the time, but now he found himself wishing that Webby had just listened to Huey and Louie and let him sleep until the early afternoon. He hadn't wanted to admit it last night when Huey had voiced his concerns, but Dewey really hadn't been able to sleep well at all recently. His older brother was having bad dreams nightly, sometimes multiple, and though they usually seemed to either end on their own or with Huey waking himself up, sometimes Dewey decided that they had gone on long enough and had woken him himself. This had only happened twice in the past month, and Huey had only woken Dewey up on purpose five or six times in the same time period. He'd also woken Louie twice, and Dewey had pretended to sleep through those since he'd figured there was probably a reason Huey had gone to his other brother instead.

The problem was that even though Huey was only being woken up by what Dewey assumed must have been the absolute worst of his nightmares, Dewey had been woken up by all of them. He had always been the lightest of sleepers, and Huey did not dream quietly. He tossed and loudly mumbled and kicked, hard enough to shake their entire bed frame, and on occasion he even sounded like he was about to cry. It was usually at that point when Dewey would decide to shake him.

Dewey was secretly glad he didn't really deal with nightmares like his brothers did. His dreams were always vague and distant, often formless, and forgotten not long after waking. Even if Louie never admitted it, Dewey reasoned that his dreams likely played a large role in the reason the twin-size bed with green sheets had gone all but unused since the boys had moved into McDuck Manor.

Dewey quickly ran his finger feathers through his cowlick and teased it to be as prominent as possible. He had tried to downplay it when he was a little kid, but once he'd realized it was a feature that made him distinct from his triplets, he had actively worked on growing it out. He splashed water on his face a few more times in an attempt to get rid of the dark circles which he had noticed earlier and quickly downed a glass as well before deciding he looked good enough for 10:30 on a Tuesday morning. For the six thousandth time that month, Dewey revelled in how lucky he was that Uncle Scrooge had convinced the Duckburg Marine District School Board to grant the three of them a year long "practical educational enrichment sabbatical". He was pretty sure that that wasn't actually a thing, but the fact that his great uncle quite literally owned the city probably factored in.

On his way down the imperial staircase to the foyer, he noticed what looked like a fortified mail truck parked not far from the door. This piqued his interest, especially since Scrooge rarely let anyone but family past the front gate, and so he went to see who was there.

"Hello?" Dewey asked the tall man at the front door.

The gorilla rolled his eyes at him. "I told you kid, I can't—oh, you're another one."

"Dewey," he said, extending his hand in a sarcastic greeting. The mailman shook it anyway.

"Everett," he said, "and I have a package here for a Mr. Donald Duck that I need a signature on before I can leave."

"Well, Uncle Donald's in a very important meeting with Scrooge McDuck right now, very important man, maybe you've heard of him?" Dewey smirked and the mailman raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, they are not to be disturbed for any reason, but maybe I can help you out. _Uncle_ Scrooge trusts me with important business matters all the time, you know. I even have a briefcase."

"Look, kid," the mailman sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "the green one already spent twenty-five minutes trying to get this off my hands earlier. He even sent the red one for a while, but at least that kid knows how to take 'no' for an answer. Now I sees you here, and I'm really hoping you'll be more like red and just leave me in peace. How many of yous are there, anyway?" 

"Just the three of us," Dewey answer flatly.

"Well, that's a relief," the big ape blithely chuckled. "Can't say I's ever met triplets before. Now come on, kid; go let your uncle know I has a very important package for him from a Ms. Minerva Mouse, or at least tell him as soon as you do see him. I get paid on the hour, so it don't matter to me."

Dewey briefly debated annoying the mailman for a little while longer, but then he caught another whiff of breakfast and decided it wasn't worth it. "Fine," he said, "I'll let them both know you're waiting out here. I'm sure the _owner_ of the post office will love hearing about how you spent your morning," he smirked again as he slammed the door shut behind him. Inhaling the scent of breakfast deeply as he did so, Dewey all but skipped on his way to the dining room. Everett and his delivery could definitely wait.

* * *

Dewey strolled into the smaller of the dining rooms and saw his brothers and Webby still sitting at the table, mostly having finished their breakfast. Huey's plate was cleared and pushed slightly in front of him, silverware and neatly folded napkin on top. Louie was still picking at what Dewey guessed was probably his third helping of Beakley's famous pomegranate pancakes, drowning in syrup and butter. The sweet scent of more was in the air, so Dewey decided to sit next to Webby across from his brothers and grabbed the remaining two pieces of bacon on the platter in the centre of the table.

"I tried to stop them, but they were already halfway through your food when I got down here!" Webby said, gesturing at the other two.

Louie shrugged. "Snooze you lose, bro."

Huey just smiled. "How'd you sleep?" he asked.

"Not bad," Dewey lied. "How about you?"

"Pretty good, actually," Huey replied, drumming his feathers on the table. "I feel better this morning than I have in, like, a week."

"That's good," Dewey said, trying not to be just a little bit jealous. "Hey, did you guys get a load of the weird mailman at the door?"

"That's not our normal mailman," Webby said. "Her name's Gail and she's a collie."

"Yeah, apparently he has this super important package for Uncle Donald that we aren't allowed to just give to him?" Dewey asked. The others nodded, confirming they already knew. "I mean, does Uncle Donald even know anyone named Minerva?"

"Maybe she's an old flame from his navy days!" Webby said, eyes sparkling. Dewey figured she was momentarily lost in her thoughts, imagining his uncle's tales of grandeur. The boys just stared at her blankly.

"As in, _the_ Navy?" Huey asked, beak slightly agape.

"No way," Louie said dismissively.

"Uncle Donald would never do something risky like that," Dewey agreed. Though, given the past couple months, he was almost inclined to believe her. It would explain that dumb uniform he liked so much.

"It's true!" Webby cried. "How do you guys not know this? Donald Duck served for _years_ before he was honourably discharged a little over a decade ago. He even started a band while he was on leave in South America. Please, tell me you guys know about Los Tres Caballeros!"

"Cabbie-who now?" Louie asked looking to his brothers, who just shrugged back.

Webby buried her face in her hands. "Ugh," she grunted, "I have _so_ many _things_ I need to _teach_ you guys."

"Well, maybe first you could help us learn what's in that package Everett out there is babysitting?" Dewey suggested. Webby was just about to answer when Louie cut in.

"It's just a stupid hat," he said, beak full with pancakes. "I know. Super disappointing, right?"

"What?" Dewey said, simultaneously excited and let down. "How do you know?"

Louie grinned smugly. "You underestimate me, Dewford. I tried talking Ev-o out of it for a few minutes, but once I realized _that_ wasn't going to happen, I kept him talking while I made a plan and wore him down," he said, pausing to take another bite of his now-soggy breakfast.

Mrs. Beakley had quickly and quietly come in and out of the room while Webby had been talking about their uncle's supposedly very exciting past, leaving a fresh stack of pancakes in front of Dewey. She had a habit of making herself scarce when the children were eating breakfast. He tossed another flapjack to Louie when he noticed the puppy eyes he was giving him, and then began to dig in to the ones left on his plate. "Go on," he prompted his younger brother.

"Well, once I had an idea of what was what, I sent Huey out to distract the guy."

"Which I am still not okay with!" Huey piped up. "You told me you hadn't even answered the door yet. It took me a solid two minutes to convince him I wasn't just you in a new shirt."

"Well, those two minutes gave me just enough time to get into the back of that fancy mail van out there, which wasn't even locked, and, get this, not only is the package exactly where I figured it'd be, but bozo actually has the key hanging up on the wall not even ten feet away!" Louie was grinning madly now. Huey rolled his eyes, but Dewey leaned in closer, very engaged in the story. "Anywho, whole thing ended up being a dud. It's just this ugly, blue hat with these tacky stars embroidered on it."

"That is weird," Dewey said, intrigued. "I wonder why some mouse lady would send Uncle Donald a hat."

"You don't know she's a mouse," Huey corrected. "Remember Phillip Terrier from school? He was a siamese cat!"

"Fine, so some probably-but-maybe-not-actually-a-mouse lady sent Uncle Donald a dumb hat in a mail truck that looks like it's straight out of Fort Knauks. Why would someone do that?"

"Why don't you just ask him over breakfast?" Webby said, tilting her head sideways.

Dewey snorted. "Webby, we can't just _ask_ Uncle Donald about it."

"What can't you just ask me about?" a familiar voice quacked from the direction she had been staring in. The triplets jumped at the sound of it and then slumped into their chairs. Their uncle was nothing if not persistent. This was going to be a _long_ conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had originally titled this chapter "The Third Wednesday of October in McDuck Manor" just randomly, but then it turns out that that's actually Huey, Dewey, and Louie's birthday! (Well, it is if you go by comic debut. I guess it makes sense that the show would do animation debut, though.) I didn't wanna do that, but I thought I'd set it not too too far before so I can do that chapter later if I want to ^_^ Also, originally I had Webby find Huey's _Darkwing Duck_ action figures, but since I had to retcon that for the show, I hope you enjoyed _Starling Wars_ ;) I couldn't think of a clever play on Luke's name, but not every name has to be a bird pun, damn it!
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading! Let me know how I did with the characters in the comments :)
> 
> This chapter's bonus points go to whoever sees where I'm going with the mail thing ;)


	3. The Many Secrets of Donald Duck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter talks about events that happen in the official _DuckTales_ comics, specifically issue #4B, "Fight!". If you haven't read the comics, I highly suggest you do, especially this one which is my favourite. Even if you can't though, I hope I've given it enough context in story!
> 
> This chapter is kind of a long one, at least for me. I was going to split it in to two chapters, but I felt like they'd both be too short on their own, and I also wanted to do both from Louie's perspective.
> 
> Anywho, while I don't own _DuckTales_ , I really hope you enjoy my next chapter!

Chapter 3~The Many Secrets of Donald Duck!

 

"What can't you just ask me about?"

Uncle Donald was standing in the archway between the dining room and the foyer. He had come down for breakfast while the kids had been talking and somehow none of them had managed to notice.

Louie was still picking at the pancakes Dewey had tossed him. "Webby was just telling us you used to be in a band?" he said.

His uncle predictably blushed, and Louie knew he'd gotten them off the hook. "Well, uh, sort of," Donald said, pulling at his collar. "It was mostly just me and some friends having fun when I was younger." He sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

The boys looked at him expectantly before the questions burst out.

"Where do we even begin?" Huey said excitedly.

"Who else was in your band?" Dewey asked.

"Did you ever tour anywhere?" Louie wanted to know.

"How come you never talk about it?"

"Is that what you're always singing in the shower?"

"Did people actually pay to hear _you_ sing?" Louie asked, recalling years of lullabies.

"What's a ' _cable arrow_ '?"

" _Caballero,_ " Huey corrected. "Uncle Donald, do you even speak Spanish?"

"What's a ' _caballero'?"_

"Do you still get royalties?"

"Were you really in the navy?"

"Why'd you never tell us?"

"Boys, boys, please, a minute!" Uncle Donald said, gesturing for them to calm down. He sighed and looked at Webby, who was smiling eagerly. "It was me, Panchito, and José and we only ever played in some small venues."

Louie could practically see the stars sparkling in Webby's eyes. Obviously she was not picking up on Uncle Donald's discomfort at the moment.

"They also put out a CD that did moderately well in America while taking the international market by storm!" Webby added. Donald shot her a look that Louie immediately recognized as his uncle's ' _please stop talking_ ' face, but he doubted she noticed. Louie thought it almost comical how starstruck she seemed.

"Aren't they those guys who send you those Mexican Christmas cards every year?" Dewey asked.

"Actually, they live in Brazil," Uncle Donald said. "My Spanish is terrible, Panchito always did most of the singing, and she's making us sound a lot more successful than we really were."

"How come you never told us though?" Huey asked.

"Do you have any CDs left?"

"But, like, you were in the navy?" Louie said. He really could not picture his soft yet wildly temperamental uncle in a disciplined military setting.

"It, well, it just never came up," he said, shrugging and scratching the feathers on the back of his neck. "The band, or the navy. That was all a long time ago." He paused, but none of the children wanted to interrupt him as his gaze seemed to fixate on something far away. He shook his head. "Anyway, no, I don't have any CDs left. My last one burned in the fire."

Dewey smiled meekly and sunk into his chair a little.

"Don't feel bad, Dewey," their uncle laughed lightly. "That's one of the few things I was happy to lose!"

"Don't worry!" Webby chimed in, "I have your self titled album on vinyl, as well as bootleg copies of the unreleased EPs. Oh, and I have your live _2001_ _A Casa Dourata_ performance on DVD!"

" _Fan_ tastic," Donald said, burying his face between his arms.

"Webby, have I ever told you that you're my favourite person ever?" Louie asked. He couldn't have been happier with the direction this conversation had taken. Dewey nodded emphatically and Huey looked to be stifling laughs.

Their uncle was blushing ruby red. "This is a nightmare," he squawked miserably.

Louie saw Dewey stop smiling and straighten up in his chair. He looked at Huey for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Uncle Donald?" he said, tone suddenly shifted. Their uncle looked up at him. "Speaking of nightmares… can we ask you something?"

"Of course, Dewey. What is it?"

Louie watched as Huey paled and clenched his fists. Evidently he had decided not to tell Uncle Donald what had been going on, but Dewey seemed to have other ideas.

"It's just… ," Dewey looked to Huey, who shook his head slightly, eyes wide. Dewey deflated for a second before taking another breath and steadying himself with both arms crossed on the table. "Huey's been having really bad dreams every night for almost a month now."

"Really?" their uncle asked. His look of embarrassment had been replaced entirely with concern.

"It's not every night," Huey said meekly, "just every couple of nights."

"No!" Dewey said, a little too emphatically. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

 _He must be even more tired than he looks,_ Louie thought. Now that he was getting a better look at him, Louie couldn't help but notice the shadows under his brother's eyes and the way he'd been leaning on the table since he'd sat down. He was still in his pyjamas.

"No, they only wake _you_ up every couple of nights, but Uncle Donald, it's every night."

"Huey?" Uncle Donald asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Louie looked at Huey to see how he was reacting. He no longer looked mortified by Dewey's admission on his behalf, but rather resigned to the topic. His gaze was fixed on his lap where he was lacing and unlacing his feathers together quickly, which he always did when he felt bad about something. Now that Louie really looked at him, he seemed nearly as tired as Dewey did.

"Not really," he said. Louie was about to kick him under the table, but then Huey said, "but they're just so real, Uncle Donald."

"I knew these adventures were a bad idea," Donald muttered. "You're still too young." When that was all he said, Louie felt a weird sense of respect for his uncle for letting the three of them adventure as they pleased despite his own personal misgivings. Even if Louie didn't really see the allure of the whole 'danger and death traps' aspect, the treasure almost always made things worthwhile.

"It's just that… ," Dewey said, looking to Huey, "We were wondering… —"

"Do you think it could be a curse?" Huey asked. He sounded calm, but Louie could feel from where he was sitting that it was only on the surface.

“A curse?” another voice entered the room. “On a member of my family? Ah gey much doubt it,” Uncle Scrooge said. He sat himself at the head of the table next to Webby. Louie also noticed that it happened to be the farthest possible seat from where his other uncle currently sat, but that could probably have been a coincidence. “Trust me, as far as dark magic is concerned, you wee bairns are covered fae tip to tail. It should nae be possible for any curse tae affect ye at all.” 

"Well, that's just not true," Huey said. "There was that time Dewey accidentally put on this weird samurai helmet that he and Louie were arguing over, and it tried to make them to fight to the death."

" _What!?_ " Donald exclaimed. "When did this happen?"

"I did not 'put it on', it got magicked onto my head! It was when we were doing the yard sale for Huey's camping trip," Dewey said. "It was all possessed and junk, and it gave us these super cool outfits, but it also made us say things, which was _super_ creepy."

Louie had to agree with his brother. He felt a chill run down his spine, remembering the sensation of someone else's words leaving his beak. Somehow it had been even worse than his body doing things he didn't tell it to do. It was not something he'd ever forget, nor was the cold panic he felt every time he remembered how very close he'd come to spending eternity like one of the creepy sculptures in Uncle Scrooge's gardens.

"Oh, and don't forget that time we all got turned to stone by the mystical mists of Moorshire!" Webby said. "Though technically, I suppose druids don't usually count as 'dark' magic."

Of course she'd had to bring that up too. It may have only lasted a few minutes, but that experience, coupled with the close call at the yard sale, had made even standing near things like statues extremely unsettling for him. He'd been having nightmares lately where it was impossibly difficult to move even a single feather, and he was never able to wake himself up from them.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone else that.

"Uncle Scrooge, I think we're going to have to have another talk later," Donald said. It looked to Louie like his uncle was barely containing an outburst, but he managed to hold it in all the same.

“Yer lecturing kin wait for another day, lad,” Scrooge said, dismissing Donald with a wave. “We have bigger problems. The lass makes a fair point: Obviously, there are some glaring holes in your so called ‘infallible defenses’.”

Uncle Donald was turning a bright shade of red. "Well, they had a perfect record until _someone_ started throwing the boys into danger on a daily basis!"

"Wait!" Dewey said loudly.

"What are you two even talking about?" Huey asked.

“Magical defenses, me boys,” Scrooge responded, as if that were actually an answer. “Once yae dip yer foot in the world o’ magic, it has a habit of following ye wherever ye may go.” He looked across at the still-fuming Donald before nodding. “Now, Webbigail,” he said, “will yae be a dear ’n’ ask Beakley tae fetch the Relic of Hollow Bastion?”

Webby's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Yes sir, Mr. McDuck sir! Does this mean we're finally going to tell the boys about magic?"

"Aye," he said. Uncle Donald was glowering at the two of them, his face unreadable.

"Wait, what now?" Louie asked. He didn't like not knowing where a conversation was heading.

"Why does Webby know?" Huey asked.

"Yeah," Dewey added.

She shrugged sheepishly. "Knowing about Clan McDuck is kind of what I do," she said, "and it didn't take much digging to realize latent magical ability runs in the family."

Scrooge sighed. “Yes, thank you Webby. And, technically,” he added, looking thoughtful, “it’s on the O’Drake side. Now, will ye hurry along and get that relic?”

"I know! And also—" she was cut off by Duckworth materializing directly in front of her. She seemed otherwise unfazed.

The triplets, on the other hand, all jolted back in their seats. The spectral butler was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"Oh, hi Duckworth!"

"Good morning to you, Miss Vanderquack," he said, bowing slightly. "I am sorry to interrupt, but I believe Sir has asked a favour of you? I'd do it myself of course, but you do know how your grandmother and I get on."

"Right, of course!" she said. "I'll get right on that!"

"Thank you, lass," Scrooge said as she skipped out of the room. "And thank _you_ , Duckworth."

"Of course, Sir," he said. "Now, I shall go find something elsewhere that needs straightening up. I am sure the young masters have many things they wish to ask you." The ghost bowed again before vanishing in a grey cloud of smoke.

The five of them sat in silence for a few moments before the triplets broke it.

"So—"

"Many—"

"Questions!" Huey finished. He and Dewey both wore different looks of excitement on their faces, but Louie didn't share in it. Nothing paranormal ever sat well with him, especially not since they'd moved into the manor.

"Well, ask away then,” Scrooge said. “Yae’ve got us both here."

"Does magic really run in your family, Uncle Scrooge?" Huey asked him.

"Are you a wizard?" Dewey asked him. "Are _we_ wizards?" The two of them were practically bouncing in their seats.

"No, boys," Uncle Donald finally said. Although it was a little too loud and sudden, his anger had seemingly subsided. He was leaning on the table and looking down. "Nobody's a wizard."

Dewey and Huey looked to Scrooge hopefully, but he shook his head.

“It’s true boys, Ah’m no wizard. What runs in me family is latent magical ability. We cannae harness magic, ‘cast spells’ per se, but it does give a powerful intuition and insight into things they without magic cannae perceive.”

"Is that why Uncle Gladstone is so lucky?" Louie asked. He'd wondered if the 'Lucky Duck' gene could actually be hereditary. It would explain Dewey's weird golfing skills.

"No, that's on my father's side," Donald said, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Louie wondered why telling them anything about their past always seemed to physically pain him. "Through Grandma Duck."

“Aye, Coot Kin magic goes back generations, but is latent nonetheless. And yer cousin Gladstone happens tae have been marked by a lucky hex,” Scrooge said. “He’s quite literally cursed with it.”

"Some curse," Donald muttered.

"So we're magic on both sides but it's useless?" Dewey asked. He looked sulky and tired again.

“Well, not entirely,” said Scrooge. The triplets perked up while Donald stiffened in his chair. “If that were true, you two would nae have been able tae trigger the Headless Man Horse, nor the Deus Excalibur.”

"Really?" Huey said, eyes sparkling.

"So we _are_ magic?" Louie asked.

“Well, sort of,” Scrooge said. “Ah suppose having a double dose of it in ye gives ye a powerful knack with magical artefacts. It took me years tae get the Excalibur to work for me, and Ah ne’er did crack that saddle.”

"Wait, but," Huey said, eyes wide with realization, "if it's on your mother's side, and your father's side, and your mother is his brother," he pointed at their uncles, "wouldn't that mean… Uncle Donald?"

Donald groaned, "I hate magic."

“Aye lad, yae’ve got the right of it. The relic Ah’ve sent Webbigail after is frustratingly no more than a rather bonny baton in my hands. Yer Uncle Donald, on the other hand—”

"Has only a basic grasp on defensive spells because I have to!" Donald interrupted, shooting Scrooge a withering look. "It's not like you could have done it," he said quietly; bitterly. Louie wasn't sure if anyone else heard him.

“Which I will still ne’er understand, but tae each their own,” Scrooge replied.

"Can we try the magical relic?" Dewey asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah, come on! I'll let you train me, Uncle Scrooge!" said Huey.

“Absolutely not!” “Nae ’til yae’re older.” 

The two drakes answered at the same time. They looked at each other tersely before Uncle Scrooge said, "We'll talk about it later."

"So, who's Minerva Mouse, then?" Huey asked.

"Yeah, is that weird hat another one of those magic thingies we can use?" Dewey said. Louie wanted to kick him, but he was too far away. He kicked Huey instead.

"Wha—the hat?" their uncle stammered. "How do you—Dewey?" Donald accused.

"I didn't do anything!" he said. "Why do you always think it was me?"

"Because it always is you," Uncle Donald responded.

"No, it was me this time. I snuck into the back of the van," Louie shrugged. "I figure you don't get to be mad at me, since, you know, you've been keeping a ginormous secret from us our entire lives."

"Magic is nothing but trouble, and the only way to keep safe from it is to keep away from it," Uncle Donald said firmly.

Louie shrugged again. "Either way, I don't think now's the time for us to be discussing morality, hmm? Oh, and Uncle Scrooge, you should seriously talk to the post office about the lax security standards they seem to employ."

Scrooge looked like he was actually impressed by Louie, which was an odd feeling for him—unlike his Uncle Donald's current look of exasperation, of course, which he'd grown quite accustomed to.

"But who's Minerva?" Dewey asked again.

"That's your Aunt Minnie," Uncle Donald answered, referring to the wife of his best friend. Louie had only met the Mouses a handful of times when he was younger, but he could remember Aunt Minnie's laugh as clearly as if she were in the room when his uncle said her name. She was kind, clever, and she smelled like fresh strawberries and vanilla ice cream. Though it had been a while since he'd had one, Louie's happiest dreams were always the ones where she happened to be their mother.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone else that, either.

"She and Mickey usually ship personal mail under her full name," Uncle Donald continued, "since his is pretty recognizable."

"Wait a minute, is Uncle Mickey _the_ Mickey Mouse?" Dewey asked. 

"The guy with all the TV shows?" Louie asked. Mickey Mouse hosted both a morning show and one of the most popular evening news shows in the country. He also had an extremely popular late night show, which the triplets weren't allowed to watch (but did anyway). The boys had simply never put two and two together.

"Is that why we never see them anymore?" Huey asked. Louie thought it was a fair assumption.

"They're just busy," Uncle Donald said. "It's only been three years, boys. That's not that long."

"Okay, but, can we stay on track here?" Dewey asked. "What's with the hat?"

Uncle Donald looked hopefully to Scrooge, who shrugged and said, "That is the Hat of Yen Sid." He then gestured at Donald, evidently not planning on saying anymore.

"Mickey was given it by a sorcerer he apprenticed for for years," he said. "It's very powerful and very dangerous, so he keeps it hidden somewhere not even Minnie knows most of the time. Every year he lends it to me for a few days, though, so I can protect you boys."

"What do you mean, 'protect us'?" Huey asked. "How? From what?"

"Anything," Donald said tiredly. "Everything."

“Yer Uncle Donald has been casting protective wards on you three since ye were wee hatchlings. He ordinarily waits ’til a fortnight afore yer birthday, but with all the excitement we’ve been through lately, he thought it may be a good idea tae reinforce his safeguards a bit early this year.”

"How are we just finding out about this now?" Huey asked them.

"I usually do it while you're sleeping," their uncle admitted.

"See? Now that's both creepy _and_ something we definitely should have known about," Louie said. His brothers nodded. "You totally don't get to ground me now."

Scrooge gave him a wry smile and one of his brothers accidentally let a snicker slip. Louie figured it was Dewey.

"But you're gonna let us watch this time, right?" Huey asked.

Donald sighed. "Sure, why not? I suppose it's only fair."

"Right then, let's get this show on the road," Scrooge said. "Ah'll have Duckworth inform Beakley tae meet us in the salon outside the guest study."

"Wait, now?" Uncle Donald said. He was suddenly sitting up straight again and looking between his nephews' expectant faces.

"No time like the now, eh Donald? Unless yae're nae feeling quite up to it," Scrooge said. Louie thought he sounded more teasing than concerned.

"Of course, I'm up to it," he said indignantly. "It's just… ,"

"Please, Uncle Donald?" Huey and Dewey pleaded together. Louie still had his reservations.

Uncle Donald sighed yet again. "Fine," he relented, "I suppose it's been a secret for long enough."

* * *

Louie had never actually been in the 'salon' on the third floor of the manor. There were so many rooms to check out, and this one didn't even have a TV in it, so it wasn't really all that surprising he hadn't gotten around to finding it yet. The walls were painted a light blue and the soft carpet muted the sounds of the room. There was a heavy door in the corner which Scrooge said led to his guest study, but otherwise the walls were lined with bookcases and what Louie assumed to be priceless art. There was a view overlooking the gardens, which was probably quite pretty, but it was filled with entirely too many stone ducks for Louie's liking.

He promptly sat himself on a leather wing-back chair which was the only seat in the room with its back to the window. Huey and Dewey sat on the beige couch by the fireplace with Webby, and Mrs. Beakley was standing by the door. When Uncle Scrooge entered, she handed him something wrapped in purple and blue silk. Uncle Donald was leaning on the wall by the door to the study, still fidgeting nervously. Scrooge looked to his nephew, as if for approval, before Donald nodded.

"But boys, no touching!" he said sternly.

"Yes, Uncle Donald," they said. Webby laughed.

"Children," Scrooge said, carefully unwrapping the silks, "Ah present tae you the Relic of Hollow Bastion."

In his hands was thin staff with a long, golden handle. Its pommel was pointy and adorned with sky blue gems, and a brilliant yellow gemstone the size of an orange was embedded in its dark blue head. There were translucent lilac wings coming off the vibrant gem, and Louie wondered what they could possibly be made of. He also noticed that the staff was nearly as tall as he was.

Sounds of awe and wonder escaped all four children. Louie wondered what kind of jewels they could possibly be. He couldn't help but imagine how much that sceptre could be worth to the right buyer.

"Uncle Scrooge, where did you find that thing?" Dewey asked him, nearly squealing with joy.

"Well, the name's pretty self explanatory, is it not?" he asked. Webby laughed again. "Ah didnae actually have anything to do with this relic, though. This one was all yer Uncle Donald."

"Really?" Huey asked.

Their uncle shifted under the boys' eager stares. "An evil wizard I was fighting dropped it when I… when I defeated him."

"A bloody good thing yae did, too,” Scrooge said. “Otherwise, Ah wouldnae be standing here right now!”

Donald cracked a fond smile. "That was a long time ago," he said. "It just started glowing when I picked it up."

“Yes, well, today is the day yae show off just exactly how far yae’ve come with that glow, Donald me boy.” He turned to the kids on the couch. “Come along Huey, Ah believe you’re first.”

"Wait, what?" Huey asked.

"How come Huey gets to go first?" Dewey asked.

"Can't we watch?" said Webby.

"Aren't we just gonna do it here?" Louie said.

“Now lads,” said Scrooge, “and Webby,” he nodded to her, “Ah imagine what yer uncle is about tae do here takes an immense amount of concentration. He’s ne’er even attempted this while ye’ve been awake before. Do ye really think it’s fair tae make him deal with all three of ye at once?”

Dewey sighed dramatically.

"Yeah," Huey said, getting off the couch, "okay, I guess that's fair." He turned to look at his brothers reluctantly a moment before taking a deep breath. "Uncle Donald?" he asked, voice small. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Of course not, Huey," Uncle Donald said, smiling. He crossed the room to take Huey's hand. "I'd never hurt you boys."

"Right," Huey smiled. "Yeah, I know that. Okay, I'm ready."

* * *

It had been almost ten minutes since Uncle Donald had taken Huey into the guest study along with the magical staff thing. Uncle Scrooge had said he needed to take care of something business-related, but he'd assured them he'd be back soon. Mrs. Beakley had tried to take Webby with her when she left the room, but Dewey and Louie had asked for her to stay. Now, the three of them sat discussing the events of the morning while they waited.

"So, how long have you known about this, Webby?" Dewey asked her.

"Well," she said matter-of-factly, "I figured out that there had to be something magical going on with Mr. McDuck when I was reading his year-end finance report and stumbled upon his annual investment in protection from vengeance curses. I think I was seven at the time?" she paused for a second, thinking about it.

When the boys had been seven, they'd mostly been reading comics and beginner novels. Louie decided not to comment on this.

"Anyways," she continued, "nobody who deals with that much magic and lives to tell about it doesn't have a touch of it themselves. As for your Great Grandma Duck's side, I'd always had my suspicions thanks to Gladstone and his mother, but those weren't confirmed until today."

"What's the deal with Uncle Gladstone's mom?" Dewey asked.

"Her name was Daphne," Webby sad, sounding sad. "According to what I've read, she was just as lucky as he is, except it never seemed to bother anyone quite the way he does. Apparently she was kind, witty, and beautiful, and impossible not to love."

"So what happened?" Louie asked. He didn't like her tone.

"Well, one day," Webby said, looking around the room first and lowering her voice. Louie thought she was probably unsure whether or not she should be telling them this. "His parents went to a picnic for Daphne's birthday. Naturally, she'd won the all-you-can-eat passes through a radio contest she didn't even mean to call."

"Naturally," Louie agreed.

"Well… the thing is, neither Daphne nor Goostave survived it," she said slowly.

"Wait, what?" Louie said. His heart was suddenly racing.

"Did someone poison them?" Dewey asked.

"Unlikely," said Webby. "No one else was affected, and witnesses say there was nothing out of the ordinary. People like to say they died from overeating, but the official coroner's reports say cause of death was obstructed airways."

The boys stared at her blankly.

"They choked," she said.

"Both of them?" Dewey asked incredulously.

"Why are you reading coroner reports?" Louie asked.

"Was Uncle Gladstone there?" Dewey said. They couldn't imagine their carefree uncle having gone through something like that. It just seemed so very, impossibly unlucky.

"No, he was somewhere else at his own party," she said. "They share a birthday, you know. I think he was turning six. He didn't find out until that night when Elvira—that's your great grandma—broke it to him once all the guests had gone home."

"Wait, so Uncle Gladstone's parents both died on his _birthday_?" Dewey asked. Louie thought he looked like he might be about to cry. "That's awful! Who took care of him?"

"Well, after that, Scrooge's sister Matilda ended up taking Gladstone in. She and her partner had no children of their own, so they were happy to have him."

The boys were quiet for a moment. They had had no idea that their lucky uncle had also been orphaned, and in that moment Louie felt so bad for him that he wished he were here so that they could hug him. It must be terrible, Louie reasoned, to remember your parents. To miss them.

* * *

"Is it just me, or has he been in there a long time?" Webby asked. She and Huey had just finished starting up a fire in the fireplace, mostly out of boredom.

"No, you've got a point," Louie said, glancing down at his phone. "It's been twenty-three minutes. Uncle Donald only kept you for eighteen."

"That doesn't really surprise me," Huey said. "Uncle Donald kept asking me to sit still so he could concentrate. He didn't really feel like talking much, either. I doubt Dewey's being as understanding as I was."

Louie smiled, knowing how true that probably was. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the smouldering scent in the air. When the door had finally opened and Huey'd come out, Dewey had rushed at him with questions. He didn't look any different, they all instantly agreed, and, according to Huey, he didn't feel any different either. He had just shrugged and said it was 'kinda boring', before Uncle Donald came out and asked Dewey to come in. The look of determination on his triplet's face made Louie almost feel bad for their uncle. Louie'd also noticed that he was wearing the funny hat.

When asked for details about what had happened, Huey really didn't have much to say. "I just kinda sat on the desk while he read some words from a sheet of paper," he'd said.

"Did you get a good look at it?" Webby had asked. "Was it ripped from some tome of old?"

"No," Huey had said. "He wouldn't let me see. Said it was private. It just looked like it had been ripped out of some notebook, though. He's got it on a clipboard."

"That's it?" Louie'd asked his brother. "Come on, why does magic have to be so boring?"

"Well, the staff also kinda glows every time he stops talking," Huey had recalled. "And sometimes, it felt a little bit warm and tingly. But," he'd said, "all in all, it was pretty uneventful."

Now, the three of them were sitting around the fire, wondering what could be taking Dewey so long. Louie was picturing his brother bouncing around the room, demanding to have his questions answered, begging desperately to try the staff out for himself. He smiled at the mental image.

"You know, he really should have done you last, Huey," Louie laughed. "After dealing with Dewey for this long, it'll be a no-brainer for me to get some more answers out of him."

"Louie!" Huey said. "That's not fair. This is super important; you have to let him focus."

"Come on," Louie said, "isn't there more you want to know? I'll lay off once he shows me that clipboard. Maybe I'll even touch the hat."

"Louie," Huey said, exhaling his name in a way Louie recognized as a warning.

"Chill Hubert, I'll make sure I don't mess up whatever firewall it is Uncle Donald has running on us," he said. "I'm just gonna ask some more questions. If he didn't want to be exhausted while dealing with me, he should've let me go first."

"Maybe he doesn't have a choice," Webby added.

"What do you mean?" Huey asked.

"Well, magic usually has rules, right? Maybe he always has to do it in the same order: Huey, then Dewey, then Louie."

"Figures," Louie replied. He never got to go first.

* * *

Nearly forty-five minutes had passed by the time a very disappointed-looking Dewey exited the study. "How can someone manage to make _magical powers_ so boring?" he'd asked, frustrated. Uncle Donald had simply pushed him gently towards the couch before sluggishly beckoning Louie with his index feather.

Now, Louie was sitting on the desk in the study and looking at the ceiling, trying not to think about the bust of Scrooge in the back corner. His uncle had told him that he wasn't going to be able to use his phone while this was going down, so Louie expected to be very bored, very quickly.

He looked again at his Uncle Donald, properly taking in his appearance. The stars on the hat, which Louie had previously seen as tacky and embroidered, now looked alive on his uncle's head, sparkling and swirling as if it were a window to the universe itself. Donald looked undoubtedly worn down and tired, but he also seemed to radiate an energy Louie had never felt before. He decided that that was probably what magic felt like, and mused on what it might feel like to wield it himself.

He was jolted back to paying attention when he felt a pale blue energy envelop him for a few moments.

"Gah!" he shouted in surprise.

"It's okay, Louie," his uncle soothed, voice strong and confident. "I'm just checking you for curses. They tend to leave a mark."

"You'd think Huey and Dewey would have mentioned this part," Louie grumbled.

Uncle Donald laughed. "Huey was too busy asking me questions and Dewey was pacing around the room the whole time, trying to convince me to teach him magic," he smiled. "I don't think either of them even noticed. This is the only spell you can see, anyway."

"Got it," Louie said. "So what's the diagnosis, Doc? Any cool magic scars?"

"Well, Huey was definitely right about that samurai curse," he sighed. "How did you boys get out of that one?"

"Huey saved us," Louie said. _Saved me_ , he thought. "He stopped Dewey just in time. The spirit was confused because there's three of us, and apparently the curse was meant for twins. Anywho, somehow that must've broke it, because suddenly the weird armour disappeared and I was totally in control again."

"Oh Louie, I'm so sorry," his uncle said sadly. "That must have been awful."

He shrugged, trying to downplay the event. "I mean, it's Dewey. He's about as scary as a rubber duckie."

Donald laughed, "You're a brave kid, Lou. But," his voice turned serious, "you don't have to be. Adventures aren't always all fun and treasure; I know that better than anybody. I should have done more to protect you boys." He looked down at his clipboard angrily, as if he were upset with whatever was written on the page.

"Uncle D, it's fine," Louie said. He was starting to agree with Huey about not bothering the poor drake. "Now, are you gonna do your thing, or what?"

Donald readjusted his grip on the staff, inhaling and closing his eyes. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I don't have to have anything to do with magic for another year."

Louie was quiet for a few moments while he listened to his uncle speaking confidently yet quietly in words that he didn't understand. He figured he could probably ask Huey what language it was later. The yellow orb seemed to pulse with light as he talked, but other than that it didn't look or feel like anything was happening.

"Uncle Donald," Louie finally ventured after mulling the question over in his head for a while, "why do you hate magic?"

"Louie," Donald shook his head, not lifting his eyes from his clipboard, "I need to concentrate."

"I know, but—"

"Louie, please, this is important," he said.

"I know, but if it's so important, why did it have to be a secret? Why do you hate magic so much? What aren't you telling us?"

"Louie," he sighed, setting the staff and clipboard down and sinking into the desk chair. He rubbed at his eyes so roughly he may as well have been trying to push them back into his head. "Magic is never anything but trouble. The less you know about it, the safer you are." He paused again before adding in a whisper, "Someone always gets hurt."

Louie could feel that there was nothing more his uncle would tell him, so instead he diverted his attention to the clipboard he had set down. Looking to see if Uncle Donald was still lost in thought, Louie quickly snatched the thing and flipped it over. The page was divided into three columns which were filled with words in another language. Scrawled across the top were their three first names, and Louie couldn't help but grimace when he saw his own dumb name with its entirely too many Ls.

"Couldn't you have just written Louie?" he asked without thinking.

Uncle Donald's head shot up and he snatched the clipboard from his nephew's hands. "Louie!" he yelled, and then calmed himself. "That's private. A person's spells are their own business."

"I dunno, Uncle D, this kinda feels like my business," he said, trying to look as intense as he could muster, "and if you don't want me to walk out of this room right now, you should at least let me see what it is you're doing to us!"

Uncle Donald deflated, eyeing Louie and clutching the clipboard as if he weren't sure what to do. Then, he relented. "Fine," he said, turning the list over to Louie. "It's all in Latin, anyway. Go ahead."

Their names were written in a neat print that couldn't have belonged to their uncle, and Louie briefly wondered if their mother had been magic as well. As always when thoughts of _her_ came up, though, he shut it out immediately. Under that in each column were words that made little sense to him. Different pens had been used and the handwriting changed slightly as the page went on, so Louie figured his uncle had been adding to it over time. While they were mostly the same, Louie had to wonder why they each needed their own column, and why not all the spells seemed to match. "Why are they different?" he asked.

Donald smiled. "Because you are three different boys. See here?" he said, gesturing to a line halfway down the page in Huey's column. "This one is for Huey's oak allergy."

"Huey's allergic to oak?" Louie asked, surprised to be surprised.

"Yep, not that you'd ever know," Donald said proudly, picking up his staff again. "You and Dewey are allergic to holly."

"Weird," Louie said. He didn't know how else to respond. "How come Dewey needs so many?" he asked. Looking at the page, Huey's list reached just over two-thirds down the page, while Louie only had a couple more lines after that. Dewey, on the other hand: His list extended all the way to the bottom.

Uncle Donald stiffened for a second before he smiled again. "It's Dewey," he said fondly. "He tends to need a lot more protecting." This made Louie snort with laughter; his brother did have a habit of diving headfirst into danger. "Now," his uncle said, "can I have that back?"

"Sure, Uncle Donald," Louie said, handing the clipboard back to him. He felt better about the whole thing now that he better understood it, even slightly. "Do what you gotta do."

His uncle smiled and got back to work. Louie decided not to bother him anymore and instead just focused on enjoying the warm sensation Huey had told him about. When he thought about it, it felt a lot like being hugged.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I had to cut it there! I still had another section or two I wanted to add, but this was starting to feel too long for my liking and this felt like a good place to conclude Louie's perspective.
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Hopefully my excessive use of references to Donald's other escapades and the extended universe didn't put anyone off, but I really enjoyed being able to work everything into my continuity.
> 
> Oh, and _Casa Dourata_ is my attempt at a Portuguese pun, I guess I took _casa dourada_ , which is literally _golden house_ , and _rato_ which means _mouse_. It's a reference to the _House of Mouse_ episode that had the Caballeros perform. I dunno, I think I'm kinda clever sometimes.
> 
> Now that that's all cleared up, I really hope that you enjoyed the chapter. This one has plenty of bonus points to award, so step right up and claim any and all non- _DuckTales_ references and allusions herein!
> 
> Lastly, reviews are scientifically proven to make me write faster ;)
> 
> All the best,
> 
> Shadow


	4. D-D-D-Danger Lurks behind You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was talented enough to claim I owned _DuckTales_

Chapter 4 ~ D-D-D-Danger Lurks behind You!

 

Although Huey didn't want to say it out loud, he was proud of Louie for having gotten their uncle to divulge more information than he already had. Huey'd asked Uncle Donald everything from how magic worked to where it came from and why he was so very against it, but he'd never received more than a sigh and a sharp "Huey, please,". It had been frustrating to say the very least, but he'd figured his uncle probably had his reasons. Still, Louie'd had a point, too: Didn't they have the right to know about these things that, apparently, were very relevant to them?

Louie'd recounted a few words that he was able to remember from their uncle's mysterious clipboard, which Huey had rightly assumed to be in Latin while with him earlier. He'd look them up later, but the ones he recognized were pretty much what he'd been expecting.

_Malum._

_Ignes._

_Temporos._

_Magica._

_Dolores._

_Speculis._

_Gelos._

_Ilex._

_Somnos._

"And… and something with a _'Q'_ ," Louie'd said, trying to recall. "He said it had something to do with your oak allergy."

"Probably _Quercus,_ then," Webby'd added, fervently making notes.

"Yeah, that," he'd said. "Hey Huey, did you know you were allergic to oak?"

He hadn't. It was strange to think he had an allergy of which he'd never been aware. He'd climbed countless oak trees in his years as a Woodchuck, and even their pollen had never so much as made him sneeze. He'd made teas from oak leaves and salves from the bark in order to earn his 'Arboreal Survivalist' merit badge. While working on his 'Alternative Pâtissiere' badge, he'd made an acorn flour croustade. He couldn't think of a reason that Louie or Uncle Donald would lie about something this mundane, though, so he supposed that that had to prove magic was real.

 _Magic is real_. He almost laughed aloud as he thought the words to himself. He'd been so excited by his great uncle's declaration, made even more believable by his other uncle's discomfort and obvious irritation, that he hadn't even thought about how improbable it had seemed at the time. Sure, magical things had happened to them before, but it had always seemed so discrete: Magical things happened around magical creatures or magical objects on magical adventures. Sure, he'd been mildly concerned that he'd happened to pick up a nightmare curse somewhere along the way, and yes, their butler was, in fact, a ghost. But the idea of magic being something real and practicable that could exist and be manipulated within his everyday life? Huey's logical mind had never even considered the possibility.

"You know, Webby," Dewey said, interrupting Huey's train of thought and her continued grilling of Louie, "I have to say, as exciting as today has been, we've been living here for literally months. I'm a little hurt you lied to us for so long."

"I didn't really lie _to_ you, per se" she said, shrinking back with a guilty look on her face.

"He's got a point; you kind of did," Louie said.

"Is omitting something really _lying_ though?" she asked.

"Definitely."

"Yep."

"Well, technically, no," Huey allowed, "but it is a deception."

"Deception!" Dewey declared dramatically. Laughter bubbled out of Huey and Louie as he pointed at her in mock outrage.

"Guys, I'm sorry!" she said, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, I wanted t—"

"Webby, chill, it's fine," Louie said to her. "We're just messing with you."

"You're… you are?" she asked. She no longer looked like she might break out into tears, but she still seemed uncertain.

"Yeah, it's just a thing that family does," Dewey said.

"Yep," Huey added. "Honestly, I'm most worried about Louie when he's not bothering me all day."

"My wrath knows no bounds," the youngest triplet joked. His brothers laughed and Webby sighed with relief.

"Something family doesn't do, though" Huey continued, "is lie to each other. No more secrets either, okay? We already have enough of those in our life."

Webby looked nervously at Dewey before nodding and giving a wide smile. Huey wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't been for his brother's small head shake and the immediate drumming of feathers that began on the tiled hearth of the fireplace beside him. It was something Dewey always did when he was deep in thought. Huey made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"I wanted to tell you right away, really," she said, "but when I asked Granny she told me I wasn't supposed to talk about it under any circumstances, _or else_. It was almost a year before even Mr. McDuck knew that I knew."

"But why lie and tell us Scrooge hates magic?"

"Oh, but Ah do hate magic," a voice echoed into the room. When the children turned they saw the three adults of the household standing in the doorway. Beakley was holding the staff with Uncle Donald standing close behind Uncle Scrooge, hand on his wing and watching him warily. When Huey looked closer, he noticed his great uncle was wearing the Sorcerer's Hat and that his trademark cane was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah hate stage magic and parlour tricks. Ah cannae stand lucky charms and bewitchèd blades. And dinnae get me started on those lousy skivers what use magic tae cheat their ways out of a hard day's work!" Uncle Scrooge's words bounced around the salon strangely, and Huey noticed a force behind them that couldn't possibly have come from the elder drake himself. His voice seemed clearer than usual, and Huey felt nearly compelled to listen to every word that came out of his great uncle's bill. "But this?" Scrooge said, touching the hat absently and turning to the boys with a wild grin on his face. "This here takes study, and effort, and ever so many hours of practice! This be no fools' illusion, me boys. This is _real_ magic!"

Once again, Huey felt himself so giddy he didn't quite know how to organize his thoughts. It only took a quick glance at Dewey and Louie to notice his brothers didn't quite seem to share in their great uncle's enthusiasm with him, but as far as he was concerned, nothing could be more exciting! The idea of learning magic from both a theoretical and practical standpoint, unlocking skills which could only be achieved through hours upon hours of reading, was a dream come true.

"Beakley!" Scrooge said, spinning again to now face her. "The staff! Come now, it's high time we do this! Ah am ready!"

"Uncle Scrooge, take three deep breaths," Donald said, again placing his hand on the elder duck. "Can you do that for me?"

"Ach, Ah'm fine!" he said, pulling back, "Feel great, actually. Better than Ah have in years. Let's get this started! Ah've been rehearsing for o'er a month now."

"Wait, get what started?" Dewey asked.

"Yeah," said Louie, "I thought we were done here."

"One more to go, lads," he said, grinning again.

"Uncle Scrooge, three breaths," Donald said, grabbing his uncle by both wrists. "I know what you're feeling right now, but I need you to focus, okay?"

"But, wait, why is Uncle Scrooge doing it?" Huey asked. It didn't seem to make sense considering everything they'd learned so far.

"Yeah, I thought you said the relic thingie didn't work for you," Dewey added.

"It's this fan _tas_ tic hat," said Scrooge, pulling away from his nephew. Donald shot him a cold look and Uncle Scrooge rolled his eyes before closing them and slowly drawing in a deep breath.

"The Hat of Yen Sid boosts one's magical potential hundredfold," Uncle Donald said, turning to face his nephews once he seemed satisfied their great uncle was centring himself. "Most people find it a little… overwhelming their first time."

"Wait, it's his first time ever doing legit magic?" Louie asked, whispering. "Shouldn't you be doing this, Uncle Donald?"

"Ah can hear you," Uncle Scrooge said. A bemused smile now sat on his face but he seemed otherwise to have calmed down. Still, the aura of power emanating from him and the sense of authority behind his every echoed word remained very much present. Huey wondered how Uncle Donald had managed to keep himself more-or-less in check earlier.

"Don't ye think yer uncle deserves a break?" Scrooge asked, trying to look serious again. He was only mildly successful.

"Well, yeah, sure, but, like, I mean, didn't you say it's just one more spell?" Dewey asked. "And also couldn't you just do it tomorrow?"

"This happens to be a very important one," Scrooge started, "and furthermor—"

"I can't say your names properly," Donald interjected, then looked down. He sighed. "This spell needs me to clearly state your full names, and I can't do that. This one just won't work if I spit my way through it."

Huey and his brothers all stifled a laugh, and he was pretty sure Mrs. Beakley did, too. Still, he felt bad about it pretty immediately. Uncle Donald had struggled with being understood for as long as Huey could remember, and he could tell by the dispirited look on his face how very much this fact bothered him.

"So how have you been doing it all this time?" Webby asked. "Even the most long-lived of spells can't sustain themselves more than a few years! Is this a new one? Why would you construct a spell you wouldn't be able to cast?"

Donald flinched, looked at his nephews, and then sighed for what felt to Huey like the thousandth time that day. "Well… ," he said, hesitantly, "I didn't. This spell isn't mine. It's Della's."

"Mom's?" Dewey asked. Huey wanted to say something, but as always when the subject of their mother came up, his brain never seemed to let him find the questions he so badly wanted answered. Louie didn't seem to react at all.

"Aye," Uncle Scrooge said. "A person's true name is their most easily exploitable weakness, and dear Della never wanted anyone to be able tae use yours against ye."

"So that's why it's lasted so long," Webby said, moving to pull out her notepad and pencil before catching the sharp look Mrs. Beakley sent her way. "'Mother's love' is supposed to be one of the most potent intents in magic! But still," she said, not noticing the uneasy feeling that was settling in the room, "a decade must be nearly a record!"

"Just about," Uncle Donald muttered, looking at the three of them as if to see how they were reacting to Webby's assertions.

Huey really wanted to ask a question. Actually, he wanted to ask about a billion questions. But the problem, as always when it came to _her_ , was that he couldn't quite find the words to express what he so desperately wanted to know, and every time he thought he'd strung together a query it would vanish like dust in the wind as soon as he went to open his bill.

The sound of Dewey's feathers drumming on the tiled floor continued, but otherwise the middle triplet seemed neutral towards the situation.

"So, can we just get this over with then?" Louie asked, breaking the awkward silence that was beginning to feel substantial. "Some of us have plans today."

"Oh?" Donald asked, looking at his youngest nephew as if he were trying to peer directly into his soul.

"Yeah, the circus is in town, so we were gonna go," said Louie, returning his uncle's intense stare. Huey remembered Dewey mentioning said circus last week, for which Webby had been very excited but Louie had seemed neither here nor there about. He was glad for the change of topic, though.

"Well then, we would never want tae deny you bairns a day at the circus, now would we, Donald?" he smirked at his nephew, who only raised his eyebrows. "What do you say? Am I ready?"

Uncle Donald looked nervously at them again before sighing and gesturing for Mrs. Beakley to give the Relic of Hollow Bastion to Uncle Scrooge. Scrooge took it gingerly from her hands and the orange orb lit up like a light bulb while the lilac wings began to rhythmically flap. Huey never thought he would hear his great uncle giggle, but there was no other way to describe the sound Scrooge McDuck made when the staff came alive for him. Uncle Donald quickly moved to wrap a hand around the staff as well and it instantly calmed to a still, softly glowing object once more.

"Ah know, Ah know," Scrooge said, barely masking the eager tone in his voice. "Ah have to focus. Rein it in," he inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Ah dinnae have tae do anything but hold the thing, aye?"

"Yes, it's really the words that matter here," Donald said, letting go and taking a step back. He nodded in approval when the relic's appearance remained subdued. "Just speak slowly and let the staff do its job."

"All right," he nodded. Scrooge coughed to clear his throat. "Lads, if ye wouldnae mind, could ye come stand in a line for me?"

Before Huey even noticed, he was halfway to where his great uncle wanted him to be, and he couldn't help but gasp as one foot moved in front of the other without him telling them to do so. He didn't remember getting up off the floor.

"Woah, holy—what the heck?" Louie squeaked, shaking his head as he came out of the same stupor Huey had just been in. "Stop it!"

Dewey looked kind of off-balance as he staggered forward, Huey thought, as if he were actually having some amount of success in resisting their great uncle's unintentional command. Even so, before long they were all standing next to each other in front of him.

"Uncle Scrooge!" Donald yelled accusatorially, grabbing for the staff yet again. Scrooge dropped it like it had burned him.

"Ah'm sorry!" he said, the look of shock plain on his face. "Ah'm sorry, Ah really am, Ah didnae mean to!" he apologized repeatedly, and Huey felt completely under his own power again. Unlike his brothers, he had never experienced anything like that before, and he sincerely hoped he never would again. Louie stumbled backwards immediately, as if he had been fighting to move the entire time, and Dewey had to catch him to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Don't ever do that again," Huey snapped, turning to see if his youngest brother needed help. Louie, looking embarrassed, had pushed Dewey away and was again standing on his own with his hands shoved into his pocket.

"Ah won't, Ah swear, Ah didnae mean to! It was an accident. Ah'm so sorry boys," Scrooge said, looking down at his hands. "Curse me kilts, that's a lot of power. Ah dinnae ken me own strength."

"Webby, I think it's time for us to go," Mrs. Beakley said abruptly, moving the grab her granddaughter from where she was still sitting on the floor, amazement clear on her face. "This is a family matter."

"But Granny—"

"Oh come on, let her stay," Louie said.

"Yeah," said Dewey, "Webby basically is family."

"And we're just gonna tell her about everything the happens, anyway," Huey added.

"Fine by me," Scrooge said, looking at the girl fondly. "Just so long as ye sit still and keep quiet, lass."

"Yes sir, Mr—Uncle Scrooge, sir!" Webby said, practically skipping over to the couch. Mrs. Beakley huffed and leaned against the door frame.

"That goes double for you, boys," Uncle Donald said, tentatively handing the staff back to Scrooge. Huey let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when nothing visually seemed to happen. "Uncle Scrooge needs to get through this in one go; no interruptions, and try not to move too much. Magic is delicate."

"Yes, Uncle Donald," they said together.

"Now let's get this over with," Louie said.

"Actually, Louie," said Scrooge, "Ah need ye tae come stand over on this end, beside Huey."

"Huh? Why?" he asked.

"That's the order Ah have tae do it," he said simply.

"That was always how she said it," Uncle Donald said quietly, smiling wistfully. "Louie, Huey, and Dewey."

"Oh," Louie said, looking at the ground, "Well, okay then." He moved to stand beside Huey, but not before awkwardly shuffling in place for a bit. Huey knew him well enough to figure Louie was probably waiting to see whether or not he had a choice in the matter before deciding to do as he was asked.

"Perfect, thank you," Scrooge nodded. "All right, here goes, well, everything," he said, laughing a little. Huey figured he was probably trying to lighten to mood and make them feel better. It didn't; not really.

Beakley moved quickly to draw the blinds and light a few candle sconces around the room. The fire he and Webby had started earlier was still burning low in the fireplace, and Huey was grateful for it's familiar, soothing scent filling the room.

"Now," said Uncle Scrooge, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Uncle Donald was close behind him, eyes shifting periodically between his uncle and his nephews. Scrooge tightened his grip on the relic and snapped his eyes open. "Let's begin.

 

_"Llewellyn Quackmore Duck_

_Hubert Fergus Duck_

_Dewford Dingus Duck_

 

_"I name thee one by three and three by one._

_I give these names to you and they are yours and yours alone._

_May none ever use these gifts of mine against you,_

_And may all who endeavour to do so find their endeavours turned to dust._

_May you draw strength from your names as you do one another._

_One by three and three by one; to each child from their mother."_

 

Huey had wanted to roll his eyes when he saw Louie visibly cringe at the sound of his full name. He figured he was being overdramatic about how old-fashioned it was, as usual. However, when his own 'true name' left their great uncle's beak, Scrooge briefly making eye contact with him, it felt like a bolt of pure energy had hit him in the chest, continuing throughout his body to the tip of each and every one of his feathers, all the way to the ends of his toes and the edge of his bill. He swayed, slightly dizzy, and it took a desperate look from Uncle Donald to keep Huey from losing his cool. It wasn't exactly a painful feeling, he thought, so much as it was… _overwhelming_. The pulsing sensation persisted until his great uncle finished reciting the rehearsed words, which Huey could barely hear over the buzzing in his head. Even when it was over, he could feel a faint tingling, as if he were acutely aware of each and every feather brushing against one another. Nothing Uncle Donald had done thus far that morning had prepared him for the way this felt, and Huey found it difficult to entirely collect his thoughts in its wake.

"Woah," Dewey muttered faintly, awe in his small voice. "That was so intense."

"Yeah," Huey and Louie said. Huey couldn't seem to come up with much more at the moment.

"Tell me about it! Ah cannae believe I—, I—," Scrooge stammered, eyes fluttering. Uncle Donald moved quickly to grab the elder drake before his legs gave out from under him.

"I figured that would happen, too," Donald said, smiling fondly. It was only then that Huey really noticed that the bags under his eyes were noticeably darker and more pronounced than usual. "Magic is exhausting. Mrs. B, will you help me get him to bed?"

"Ah'm fine," Scrooge said blearily, "Ah dinnae—"

Uncle Donald swiftly slipped the strange hat off their great uncle's head and Uncle Scrooge collapsed further into his wings, already snoring softly. Huey was fascinated to notice that the relic again looked like a cheap plastic replica in his hand.

"Once we get Uncle Scrooge tucked in, I'll be right back to talk to you about this," Uncle Donald said, looking worriedly at the boys. "About everything."

"Nah, Uncle D, if it's all right with you, we really gotta get to that circus if we don't wanna miss it," Louie said.

"Really?" Uncle Donald asked, again staring at the youngest triplet keenly. He then looked expectantly to Huey, as if expecting him to contradict his brother.

Huey was still just having a hard time clearing his head enough to form words.

"Yeah, it's leaving town after this evening's performance. Can we just talk when we get home tonight?" Louie said.

"Well, okay," Uncle Donald relented only once Scrooge tried to shift his weight in his wings, "but we are talking tonight, I promise. Just… ," he paused, taking a minute to make eye contact with each of them as he spoke, "Just don't be home too late. Stick together and promise me you'll be safe."

"Uncle D, you've literally spent the last four hours making sure nothing bad could ever happen to us," Louie said, moving to pull Webby off the couch. "What could you possibly have to worry about?"

* * *

"Louie, why were you in such a rush to go?" Webby asked him. "I didn't think you even cared about the circus."

"Yeah," Dewey said, "Uncle Donald was actually going to give us some answers for once."

"I know," Louie said simply. "That's why I needed to get out of there."

"What do you mean?" Huey asked.

"It's just… ," he trailed off, looking far into the distance, "I dunno, it's just information overload today, you know?"

"Not really," said Webby.

Louie chuckled, "I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I feel like I've learned some serious freaking secrets today, and there were some pretty dang intense moments in there, and I, for one, would like a little bit of time to process these revelations before another dozen or so truth bombs get dropped on our heads."

There was a brief pause while the rest of the kids considered Louie's words. "Yeah," Dewey finally said. "Yeah, I guess that's fair."

"But why the circus?" Huey asked him. He didn't entirely agree with Louie's viewpoint, but he totally understood why his little brother would feel that way.

Louie shrugged. "Webby and Dewey were really excited to check it out. Besides, we'll see if I can't con my way into a handful of carny jackpots while I'm there," he said. A glimmer of mischief was in his eyes.

Huey smiled while the others started talking over one another about what they planned to do once they reached the Duckburg Fairgrounds. He looked up to the cloudless, cerulean sky and enjoyed the sweetness in the air as he took in a deep, cleansing breath. While he was nearly boiling over with curiosity for what their uncle wanted to tell them, he decided he would enjoy every moment of this carefree outing. Sometimes, it was nice to just be kids.

* * *

"That. Was. Incredible!" Webby shouted as they exited the Big Top, her fists clenched in joy. "We need to come to the circus all the time!"

"I know, right?" Dewey asked. "Did you see those tigers?"

"I still can't believe the stupid midway only gives out caramel corn and candy apples as prizes," Louie moped, absently nibbling on the cotton candy he had won at ring toss.

"At least we didn't have to pay for any of our snacks today," Huey said, finishing off his slushie. "And those mimes were absolute artists!"

"Yeah, I especially liked when they went to war with the clowns," Webby said.

"Say what now?" asked Louie.

"You know, that part where the clowns lead the chimpanzees in the peaceful revolt to free the elephants from their oppressive mime overlords!" she said, all but squealing. "Why? What was your favourite part?"

The boys couldn't help but laugh. "You know what, Webby?" Huey said, still chuckling. "That was my favourite part, too."

All in all, their carnival day had been a huge success. Huey's face almost hurt from having smiled so much, and his stomach was bursting with victory treats. He was sure he'd regret that later, but that was 'Future Huey''s problem. For the time being, he couldn't imagine being more content.

Of course, he should have known that meant it couldn't possibly last.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" said a familiar voice from behind them. Huey was the first to spin around, coming face to face with Big Time Beagle less than five feet away, backed by more than a dozen other Beagle Boys. Even though Huey knew that they had beaten these thugs countless times, there hadn't been this many of them since they had kidnapped Lena after the girls had crashed Ma Beagle's birthday.

The four children steeled themselves together, Dewey and Webby dropping their sweets to the pavement while they assumed what the boys hoped was a battle stance. Thinking back on the morning, Huey smiled. He was riding a high of magical invulnerability and an entire bag of powdered mini doughnuts, and wasn't even mildly concerned about their chances. He knew for a fact that they could both outsmart and outrun the Beagle Boys.

Still, he couldn't help it when the next words out of Big Time's mouth made his heart race and his blood run cold.

"Ma says the rest don't matter none, boys!" he snarled, baring his teeth. "Grab the red one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Next chapter is where things really start to pick up.
> 
> Bonus points in this chapter are for the boys' middle names and why I had Della say their names in a different order than, well, literally everyone else says them.
> 
> That's all for now folks. Remember, reviews make the world go round!


	5. There's a Stranger out to Find You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right y'all, this here is the last of the pre-written chapters I have. From this point on, you'll see how terrible of waits I've been putting the FF.net crowd through. My humblest apologies.
> 
> Oh, and I do not own _DuckTales_. If I did, I would apparently have a much more consistent release schedule.

Chapter 5~There's a Stranger out to Find You!

 

"Grab the red one!"

Webby took in a slow, deliberate breath, just like Granny had taught her to always do before getting into a fight, and let her senses take in all the necessary surroundings:

 _At least twenty Beagle Boys. Probably more out of sight. Polyurethane wheels on concrete—where_ are _the Taquitos? Louie_ _'_ _s stance is off. We_ _'_ _ll have to work on that once we get out of this. Three carnival tents, the merry-go-round, and seven game stands. Smells like burnt sugar, diesel, and weirdly sweet garbage. Who taught Dewey how to make a fist? Two closed-up food trucks. The ticket booth looks shut down, too. I shouldn_ _'_ _t be able to hear the elephants from here. Where did all the people go?_

This thought made Webby to do a double take: _Where did all the other people go_? She was reasonably sure the spectator stands had been at least half-full during the show. Now though, aside from the four of them and the entirely-too-many Beagle Boys, there didn't seem to be a single person in the fairgrounds. Which was unfortunate because, as much as Webby was loath to admit it, there were just too many of them. They could really use a hand right now.

"Huey?" Dewey said, brows furrowing. "Why ju—"

He was cut off when Big Time's snarl broke into a full-on roar, the short man charging at the children. Webby reflexively lunged forward, landing both feet squarely on his sternum and digging her feathers into his shoulders. The man yowled and moved to grab her, but Webby kicked off of his chest and deftly leapt backwards. A sharp pain under her left rib prevented her from landing the back handspring she had attempted, but she did succeed in knocking the brute to the ground. Louie helped Webby hastily up from where she had landed while Big Time roared again, this time with real malice behind it.

"What're you idiots waitin' for?" he growled. "Somebody grab him!"

"Guys," Webby said, grabbing Huey's hand with her free one, "I think that's our cue to run." She turned around quickly and started to sprint, yanking the two boys to follow behind her. Louie yelped in protest but ran along with her nonetheless. She turned her head to make sure Dewey was keeping up like she hoped and flashed him a smile when she saw he was less than a metre behind her. Unfortunately, this meant she also noticed that the Glam Yankees were gaining on them.

She increased their pace and went to take her next left, but hurriedly spun on her heel when she saw the 6th Avenue Meanies advancing slowly yet menacingly in their direction. The path on the right that they took instead curved sharply, leading them to a dead end. She dropped Huey and Louie's hands as they all came to an abrupt stop.

"Come on!" she said as she hastily yanked up the canvas bottom of the large tent wall they had run into. She quickly ushered the boys in before skidding under the fabric herself and hurriedly smoothing it back out, hopefully getting rid of any sign that they'd been there. _At least we don_ _'_ _t have to worry about our footprints on the concrete._ She shushed the triplets firmly and closed her eyes to focus on what she could hear.

Louie was doing a good enough job of breathing silently, but Huey and Dewey were panting. It was hard to believe they were already out of breath, but, now that she thought about it, she supposed they had both seemed kind of tired today. She was pretty sure Dewey had been nodding off during the performance earlier. She reached up to put a hand on each of their beaks and tried to make eye contact with the both of them, but in the darkness it was hard to tell if it made a difference. She took deep, purposeful yet quiet breaths until both boys were doing the same. It was still louder than she was happy with, but it seemed to do the trick.

"Wha'd'ya mean, you lost 'em?" an overly exaggerated New Stork accent asked outside the tent.

"I swear to Ma, they ran right this way!" said another voice, which she thought she maybe recognized as either Bungle or Bottle.

"Well, they ain't here now, is they?" asked another Beagle. This was followed by the sound of what Webby assumed was Bottle (or Bungle) getting smacked across the back of his head. "C'mon, let's split up and find those brats."

Webby listened intently as the three sets of footsteps faded into the distance and then gave a thumbs up once she was sure there was no one in earshot.

"Why do they only want Huey?" Dewey asked in a hushed voice.

"Dewey, are you seriously jealous that you aren't the target of this specific kidnapping attempt?" Huey whispered loudly.

"It's not that," he said, "I just think it's weird that they specifically want you."

"Sounds a lot like jealousy, Dewford," Louie said, pulling out his phone and using it to add a bit of light to the dim enclosure.

"I'm not jealous!" Dewey insisted, though Webby wasn't entirely convinced herself. "It's just weird. Why Huey? I thought Webby was the one Ma Beagle had the grudge against."

"Maybe they're still mad at you for whatever you did to cheese them off on 'Only Child Day'," Louie suggested.

"Or _maybe_ Tim and Timbo told Ma Beagle what an excellent leader I am and now she wants to ask me for advice on child rearing!" Huey retorted, voice starting to rise. Webby shushed him again.

"Tim and Timbo?" Louie whispered, lifting his eyebrows.

"Bouncer and Burger," Huey said with a huff, "and they weren't even upset with me! In fact, they wanted me to replace Big Time as their new big brother."

"You seem oddly proud of this, Huey," said Dewey.

"And you seem oddly upset that you're not the one they're trying to _kidnap_ , Dewey!" Huey snapped, ripping his hat off in frustration. Apparently he'd left his guidebook at home today.

"Guys, this really isn't the time," Webby said. "Can we talk about why they're specifically after Huey once we get you all back to the manor?" She tried to bring a tone of authority to her voice in the hope that it would make Huey, Dewey, and Louie feel like she was much more confident and in control of the situation than she actually was. Although Granny had never explicitly told her so, Webby knew that she, Webby Vanderquack, was personally entrusted with keeping the Duck boys, heirs to Clan McDuck, out of harm's way. Granny was Scrooge McDuck's personal undercover bodyguard, so it only made sense that, as her granddaughter, Webby was entrusted with doing the same for Scrooge's grandnephews. Obviously. The logic followed.

"Fine," Dewey said, rolling his eyes. "Does anyone have a plan?"

"Louie," Huey said, "can you call someone for help? Uncle Scrooge is probably still sleeping, but how about Launchpad or Uncle—"

"Don't you think I've been trying?" the youngest triplet said, flashing his screen in Huey's face. "I'm not getting any service."

"Okay, so that's a priority then," Webby said. "Next up: Does anyone remember where the exit is?"

"No, but I do remember the security guard saying it was the only way in or out of the fairgrounds," said Huey, moving to put his hat back on.

"Huey, wait," Webby said, the beginnings of an idea starting to take shape in her mind. "Don't put that back on."

"Why not?" he asked. The three of them looked at her quizzically.

"I might have an idea," she said, reaching out to mess up his neatly combed feathers. The boys wore matching looks of confusion, but once she backed up and took another look at them, she was reasonably certain that her plan was going to work. Probably. Their chances were pretty good.

"Louie," she asked, "are you wearing a t-shirt under there?"

"Uh, no?" he said "It's, like, eighty degrees today."

"Okay, um… roll up your sleeves then."

"Why?" he asked her.

"We don't have time for this," she said, moving to cuff his left sleeve until it was just over halfway up his wing. It looked kind of bulky, but maybe? From a distance? "Like that," she said, gesturing to his other sleeve and moving behind him. "Huey, tuck in your collar."

"Sure thing, but do you wanna fill us in on your plan?"

"It's not so much a plan as it is a potential advantage we can work with, which would be really useful seeing as they have us so outnumbered," Webby said while folding Louie's hood into the back of his sweatshirt as evenly as possible. "You see, dogs are colour blind," she started.

"So, like, they see in black and white?" Dewey asked.

"No, they can see blue and yellow just fine," Webby said, taking a step back and squinting. "But, in theory, red and green should look the same." She decided to muss both of their hair feathers a bit more. She figured that that was probably as good as it was going to get and took a step back. "Well, what do you think?"

"Your hair looks ridiculous," Louie said, crossing his arms.

"Your arms look like marshmallows," Huey remarked snidely. Louie scowled in response.

"I think you did a great job, Webbs," said Dewey, tilting his head to the side. "Whatever it is you're trying to do."

"Well, they're after Huey, right?" she said. The red triplet gave a small nod. "They said they're splitting up to look for you. If they can't tell who's who, hopefully we can make their job a whole lot harder."

"That actually isn't a terrible plan," Louie said.

"I'm not done," Webby continued. "Now, I don't know if they can actually smell you or if that's just a mean thing that people say, but just in case," she said, grabbing Huey's hat from where he'd put it down and handing it to Dewey, "I want you to take that."

"Can Dewey!" he said, saluting. His brothers rolled their eyes.

Webby smiled. "Okay, part two: You three split up, but Huey, make sure you stay close enough that I can get to you right away. We have to try to find the exit, or literally anyone else who can help us. There have to be other people here right?" she asked. "What about the guys who were running the game stands?"

"Actually," Louie said sheepishly, "now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure those were just Beagle Boys without their masks on."

Huey groaned, "And you didn't recognize them?"

"Hey, neither did you!" he retorted. "I mean, they were just so friendly and well-dressed."

"The 6th Avenue Friendlies," Webby said, smacking her forehead. "And I bet the Tumblebums were in the performance we watched."

"Was this whole thing a setup?" Dewey asked.

"Probably," Louie muttered.

"Okay, Louie: I want you to keep checking your phone. As soon as you have reception, get out the SOS. Dewey," Webby turned to him, "how do you feel about climbing on the tops of these tents?"

His eyes were all but sparkling. "It's what I was born to do."

"All right, well, I want you to get a bird's eye view and see if you can let us know if we're going to get ambushed. Yell if you notice anything helpful, and see if you can find us a clear path to the exit."

Louie down looked at himself and then at Huey apprehensively. "I dunno, I'm not sure I like thi—"

"In here, I think I smell something!" a muffled voice cut him off from the other side of the tent.

"It's time to go," she said urgently, lifting the canvas again and peering out. When she was reasonably confident that the coast was clear—for now—she motioned for the boys to get out. "Huey, I don't want to lose sight of you for more than fifteen seconds. Dewey, Louie: Give 'em something to chase. And if either of you get caught, just let them know they have the wrong brother."

"Here's hoping they care about doing their job right as much as you think they do," Louie said, again checking his phone before shoving back into his pocket.

"Would _you_ wanna disappoint Ma Beagle by bringing back the wrong triplet?" Dewey asked, jumping to clamber up the back of the tent with the lowest roof.

"That's a fair point," Huey said. After watching Dewey slide down the side twice, he and Webby moved to give him a boost.

"Nailed it!" he cried. He stood triumphantly atop the blue and yellow striped tent and surveyed the area. "Okay, so, you're clear as far as I can see in this direction, and that way… ," Dewey turned to look behind him. "Oh no, oh shoot, they see me. Time to run, guys!" he smirked, saluting again and turning to jump to the next tent.

"Be on the lookout for the Taquitos and keep an eye on the Déjà Vus!" Webby yelled to him.

"I have no idea what that means but okay!" he shouted as he leapt for the next tent, and then he was out of sight.

"Okay," she nodded to the remaining two brothers, "time to split up and run. Shout if you find anything and we'll rendez-vous at the exit. Everyone keep making lots of noise. Good luck!"

* * *

"Stay. Away. From. My. Friend!" Webby wailed, punctuating each word with sharp jabs on either side of the large Meanie's jaw.

She had just barely been in earshot when she'd heard the desperate " _Guys! Webby! Help!"_ , bolting as quickly as she could in direction of the panicked cry. Louie had been being held nearly six feet off the ground by the hood of his sweatshirt by the time she'd arrived, grasping at its neckline to keep it from choking him.

"Any…time now, Webby," he'd wheezed. Webby had moved quickly though, and she had kicked the large brute's legs out from under him before Louie'd had a chance to finish his sentence. Louie'd stood up from where he'd been dropped and dusted some dirt off of himself before he'd turned, wide-eyed, to Webby. "I change my mind," he'd said, "I no longer like this plan."

Of course, there had barely been a minute to catch their breath before the largest of the Meanies had gotten back to his feet and grabbed for the boy. This had been what had triggered Webby to lunge at the man, fists flying and knocking him back to the ground. He tried to wrestle her off, but she was far too quick for him. He may have been stronger than the small girl but he was at a clear disadvantage, him pinned to the ground and her standing on his chest and pulling no punches.

Well, maybe pulling a _few_ punches. She only wanted to incapacitate the guy.

"Guys!" she heard Louie say while she continued to subdue the man. "Level with me here! We all know you fellas are much too smart to fall for the dumb twin con. Look: Hoodie, long sleeves, no hat?" he gestured at himself, yanking his left sleeve loose. The two men had him backed against the fairground fence, which was unfortunately too smooth to hope to climb. "You got the wrong guy!"

"Wrong guy?" said the shortest of the trio, cracking his knuckles. "You remember somethin' about a 'wrong guy', Back Alley?"

"I dunno, Bite-Size," said the taller man in the trench coat, sneering as he met Louie's gaze. "Looks like the right guy to me."

"Come on," Louie said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he was unable to get more distance between himself and the menacing Beagles in front of him, "I'm trying to help you here! Your Ma don't exactly take kindly to mistakes, does she?"

This seemed to give the Beagles pause. They had been advancing slowly in a manner that had clearly been meant to intimidate the young boy, but they momentarily stopped in their tracks to share an uncertain look. These few seconds of hesitation gave Webby her chance to sneak up behind them. She launched herself upwards and landed on Back Alley's shoulders, her sudden weight making the tall man to stumble to his knees. She then banged their two heads together, the dull _thunk_ causing the grown men to slump dazedly to the ground.

"Let's go!" she said urgently, taking Louie by the hand and yanking him into a sprint. "I doubt they'll be down for long."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Louie responded, pulling his hand back and pushing himself to keep up. "Why did we think this would work again?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Webby asked, turning another corner. Louie rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. "Any luck with your phone?"

He shook his head, breathing steadily. "I was able to get through to Uncle Donald once, but it went to voicemail."

Webby groaned in frustration. Her plan had not been going quite as well as she'd hoped. Not only were they still no closer to finding the way out—which, seriously, should not be this difficult—but the Beagle Boys really could not have caught them at a worse time. Webby and the boys had been stuffing themselves with carnival treats for hours, and she was feeling bloated and sluggish and most definitely not in top form. She was already beginning to feel yet another cramp shooting through her left side, which she knew was probably due to exerting herself so much on a full stomach. Her throat was desert dry; had she even drank actual water today?

And if she was feeling this bad, she could only imagine how the boys were doing. She'd had to hide Huey under one of the food trucks when he'd lost his footing while they were running from two different sets of Beagles and he'd had a hard time getting back up. She'd hoped the stench of grease would cover his scent. He'd apologized profusely after his fall, but he had been so breathless at the time that he had been struggling to get the words out. Webby'd told him to "wait here" and "catch your breath" and "I'll be right back", because it had been about at that time that she'd heard Louie's desperate call for help.

For his part, the triplet in the hoodie looked utterly miserable. Still, he seemed at the very least to be keeping it together better than his brothers.

A sudden _thump_ to their left made Webby spin her head around, and she felt even more disheartened when she saw the small duck who had landed there on the pavement. She'd never seen Dewey fail a three-point landing before, but this time he had missed it entirely, twisting his wing as he'd awkwardly tumbled forwards. Webby noted the shadows under his eyes as he tentatively flexed the wrist he had incorrectly landed on, red hat still in its grip. She didn't know why the boys were so tired today, but they really could not have picked a worse time for it.

Dewey rubbed his shoulder as he got up, shaking himself as if fatigue were something he could will away if he tried hard enough. He drew himself up to his full height and put his hands on his hips while a grin spread across his beak. "Guess what I finally found?"

"If the answer is anything other than the exit, the Beagle Boys won't be the only ones trying to hurt you," said Louie, checking his phone yet again.

"Geez, calm down, it's the exit," he said. "It's on the other side of the Big Top and kind of, like, hidden behind the ring toss table. But the bad news is those freaky circus guys and the weird mime dudes are guarding it. But, more good news: It looks like Launchpad's got the limo parked outside. I couldn't get his attention, but if we can just get out of here, we're home free."

"Okay," Louie groaned, pinching the bridge of his bill with a huff. "So I guess this is where we are in the plan then," he said, rolling his sleeve back up. "Webby: Go get Huey and head for that exit as stealthily as possible. Dewey and I'll get the weirdos by the gate and any other Beagles we run into to chase us as far from you guys as possible. Then we'll loop back to the exit and make the getaway of the century. Dewey, I truly can't believe I'm saying this, but lead the way."

Dewey flashed a goofy smile and tugged Huey's hat firmly onto his head, probably thinking it would make him more tempting as bait. The two boys then took off in the direction of the large central tent where the main show had taken place, and Webby started running towards where she had left Huey. She turned another corner and nearly ran headfirst into someone, instead shoving them backwards and using the momentum to leap to her left.

"Webby, it's me!" Huey complained, having landed on his tail.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped, quickly moving to help him up, "Huey, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone—wait, why aren't you under the taco truck?"

"Beagle Boys," he replied curtly, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into a narrow alleyway between two tents and crouching low. It was quiet for a few moments before she heard the wheels, but shortly after that the Longboard Taquitos came into view. Both children held their breath and shrunk back into the canvas behind them, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Webby knew that their cover was entirely inadequate, so they just had to hope that they wouldn't be noticed.

Luckily, the brightly dressed trio sped right by on their boards, laughing and pointing in the direction they must have thought Huey had run. After a few more seconds of silence, he and Webby finally let themselves exhale.

"Well?" she asked.

"The one with the dumb glasses spotted me when he fell off his board," Huey said, rolling his eyes. "Luckily, he was pretty far away when it happened and they're dumb enough that they feel the need to announce their every move. I'd only been running a minute or so when you bumped into me."

Webby scratched the back of her head and smiled in a manner she hoped looked apologetic. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, I'm fine," he said. "Have you found the exit yet?"

"Yes, actually!" she said, watching his whole demeanour brighten at her words. "Well, technically, Dewey did. But we found it, and Launchpad's outside, and we just have to get there while Dewey and Louie distract the guys guarding it."

Huey smiled. "Louie got ahold of Launchpad?"

"No, he was already here," Webby said. "Granny must've sent him to bring us home after the show. He's out in the parking lot."

He nodded and his face fell a little bit. "It would be really great if he were in here and not out there."

Webby shrugged in agreement but didn't say anything, simply standing and offering a hand to Huey. He took it and let her help him up, peering out of the odd alley between tents they were currently hiding in before he asked, "Okay, so which way gets us out of here?"

"Dewey said it was behind the ring toss tent, which is on the other side of the Big Top," she recalled.

"Other side with respect to what?" Huey asked her, uncertainty creeping back into his voice. "From here? From where you were then? From where he was when he saw it?"

"Huey, calm down," she said, grabbing his hand with both of hers in an attempt to quell his growing panic. Webby couldn't really blame him; they'd been at this for what must have been at least an hour. "Remember when Louie talked the ring toss man into letting the four of us play for the price of one while we waited for the show to start? It was right by the show's main entrance."

Huey opened his beak to say something, but the sound of feet hitting concrete snapped them both back to attention. They made eye contact and nodded, turning in the direction of the Big Top and away from the approaching sound of footsteps. The shiny yellow and white tent festooned with red flags stood tall, towering much taller than its surroundings and in the centre of the fairgrounds. For the first time since this mess had started, they actually had a waypoint.

They exited out the other end of the narrow space and headed towards their goal, moving as quickly as they could while trying to be silent. Apparently, they had been as far from the exit as they possibly could have been when they'd run into each other. Fortunately, the large open area that they had to cross to get to the Big Top was empty at the moment. The quiet did little to ease her dislike of how exposed they were. She noticed that Huey was limping on his left side and groaned internally, wondering what else could possibly go wrong today. She really hoped that that wasn't her fault. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

They stuck close together, finally reaching the back of the large tent. Webby had originally planned on sliding them under the fabric yet again, allowing them to sneak undetected underneath the spectator stands. It would have been the perfect cover. Unfortunately, the walls of this tent were much more securely fastened to the ground than the supply one the four of them had hidden in earlier. The glossy material was stretched tightly around a thick metal cable, and that cable was secured to the ground with stakes every metre or so.

Instead, Plan B was going to have to be creeping along the outside and hoping their luck held out. In the absolute centre of the fairgrounds. Fully in view to anyone who walked by. One of them obviously fatigued and with an injured ankle.

Okay, so Plan B was definitely not ideal.

They were halfway around to the front of the Big Top when Webby heard voices coming from the direction they were headed. By the way he froze, Huey must have heard them too. Webby studied her surroundings and her eyes fell on the stand where they'd tried to knock down milk bottles with softballs. She grabbed Huey's wrist and sprinted across the path, both of them hurriedly hiding under the tablecloth. They listened intently as the threatening voices grew closer.

"Am I the only one out of all of us who knows how to get anythin' done?" Webby made out as the voices came into range. Huey gulped as they both recognized the voice as Big Time's. "How hard is it to catch one gosh darn McDuck brat?"

"Don't worry, Big Time," she heard Bouncer say. The ground quaked a little with his every step as the large man walked past their hiding spot. "I'm sure your plan won't go horribly wrong this time!"

She heard Burger mumble something in response as they kept walking, but he was cut off by what sounded like Big Time smacking his two brothers. He continued to rant at them, but they had been stomping by so quickly that Webby could no longer make out the words. Once the eerie silence of the empty fairgrounds returned, both children let out the breaths they didn't realize they'd been holding.

"What now?" Huey asked, grasping for his Guidebook before remembering he'd, for whatever reason, left it at home.

Webby tentatively peeked her head out from under the tablecloth, smiling when she looked to her left and noticed the ring toss stand only two tables down. In the distance she heard several pounding footsteps and what sounded like either Louie or Dewey jeering at his pursuers. Not liking not knowing which way that chase was headed, Webby decided to opt for optimal discretion as she formed what would hopefully be the last plan for today.

"All right," she said after returning to her cross-legged position under the table. "We're basically home free at this point." She smiled at the small sigh of relief that slipped from Huey seemingly unintentionally. "There are two more stands between us and ring toss. How do you feel about making the rest of the way on all fours?"

"Webby, you took us crawling through the manor vents on the very first day we met," he said, chuckling a little. "Let's just get out of here."

She smiled and looked to make sure the coast was clear before ushering him to the next stand. This seemed to be some sort of shooting game, and Webby briefly considered if anything there could be useful. She picked up one of the air rifles and flinched when the trigger itself fell to the ground with a hollow _clink_. Deciding these were probably more likely to hurt the person using them than anyone else, she gently put the rusty thing down and signalled to Huey to move on.

The next stand seemed to be more of an information booth, now that Webby got a better look at it. She supposed that made sense, considering that, if Dewey was right, they were right by the main entrance. There was a cardboard box under the table labelled _Lost &Found_, and Webby had another quick idea. "Here," she said, shoving the box towards Huey. She looked out from under the far end of the tablecloth and, sure enough, the exit was right there. She could see the empty parking lot through the gap in the fence and, for the moment, it was entirely unguarded.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Huey asked, rummaging through the collection of single mittens and lost socks. "It smells so—why is there always a pair of underwear in these things?"

"Just put on scarf or something," she said. "The exit is right there, and it looks like the coast is clear, but I just want to cover all of our bases." She didn't tell him that she was concerned his ankle would slow them down, and that, once again, she was really just trying to give them any advantage that could help them out here. She grabbed a sunhat and a pair of sunglasses missing a lens, and Huey grabbed a toque and scarf. Webby took the toque off and put it back in the bin, instead giving him her glasses.

"Probably a better disguise without a hat," she said. They shared a nervous laugh. "Okay, let's go."

Standing up, Webby looked both ways and listened again. Satisfied, she helped Huey up from under the table and prodded him gently forward. The two of them were off and running, no longer caring about keeping down the noise from their pounding feet as they bolted towards the way out. Webby kept closely behind the boy, just in case someone tried to ambush them from behind. Huey's limp was slowing him down only slightly, and Webby decided she would have to commend him later on how little he was letting his injury affect him.

The dash to the exit was only a minute or so long, but to the children it felt agonizingly slow. They both half-expected a Beagle Boy to jump out at any minute. It was almost surreal when they finally did cross the threshold, both of them pausing to look at each other as if to make sure that that had actually just happened. They had finally made it out and, after all that, the homestretch had really been that easy. Wide smiles spread across their faces, but Webby's fell when she noticed the pained look behind Huey's eyes.

"How's your ankle?" she finally asked, eyeing the limousine parked at the far end of the otherwise empty lot.

"It… hurts," Huey said matter-of-factly, wincing as he slowly lifted his foot and rotated it experimentally, "but it just feels like a bad sprain."

"Sit there," Webby instructed, gesturing to a spot along the fence that was far enough away from the main door that he wouldn't be seen by anyone inside. "I'll go get Launchpad."

Huey stepped forward, likely to disagree, but when his left foot hit the ground a small cry involuntarily escaped his beak. He looked to Webby apologetically and she tried to give him the same look Granny gave her when she didn't want to get her flu shot.

"Okay," he said meekly, "I'll wait here for Dewey and Louie."

Webby flashed him a thumbs up and took off at full-speed to where their getaway car was waiting. Without having to worry about whether or not anyone would be able to keep up with her, Webby ran as fast as she could. She reached the limo in moments and knocked on the driver side window.

"Hey, nice hat!" Launchpad greeted cheerily after lowering the glass.

"Launchpad, we have to get going, now!" Webby said. She moved to open the back door, grunting in frustration when it was locked.

"Whoa! No can do, fancy-lady-I've-never-met-before. Mrs. B sent me to pick up the kids, and they're not here yet. I'm sure they won't mind if we give you a ride, though!"

"Launchpad, it's me," Webby said, throwing the hat to the ground. She kept pulling at the locked handle.

"Oh, Webby! Hi! Sorry about that, but you know what they say: Never blindly trust a person in a hat."

The door clicked open and Webby jumped into the back seat. "Launchpad, _you_ wear a hat."

"Yeah, but I know my hat. It's a known hat."

Webby rolled her eyes. "Come on, we have to get going. The Beagle Boys are chasing us."

"Oh no!" he said, starting the engine. "They all wear hats!"

Webby smacked her forehead. "Yes, that is the main concern here," she said sarcastically.

"Where are Dewey and his brothers?" Launchpad asked, now speeding the car towards the fairground entrance.

"Huey's over there waiting, and th—"

"I dunno, Webby. I'm, like, eighty-seven percent sure that none of the boys wear glasses."

"It's a disguise, Launchpad," she said. "Dewey and Louie'll be here in a second."

They pulled up beside the young duck, miraculously without crashing, and Webby helped Huey into the back seat.

"Hi Huey! I like your scarf. Bold fashion statement at this time of year."

"Thanks, Launchpad," the young boy said, laughing with what was probably more relief than anything else. "Can you get us a little closer to the entrance?"

"Sure thing!" he said, throwing the car into reverse. Predictably, they backed up right into a light post. Webby smiled. _I thought it was odd we hadn_ _'_ _t crashed yet_. Still, this put the back door right next to the exit, so all they had to do was wait.

They didn't have to wait very long before they heard frantic footsteps headed their way.

"Start the car, start the car, start the car!" they heard, the familiar voice getting louder and closer with every repetition. They turned to see Louie running, rapidly looking in every direction as he did so. Once he crossed through the exit he all but leapt into the car, buckling himself in and slumping down into the cushions.

"I think I lost 'em," he said, panting. "Watched a bunch of them 'follow me' into the Big Top while I snuck out under the game stands."

"We did the same thing," Webby said, relieved to know that he probably hadn't been followed.

"Where's Dewey?" Launchpad asked.

"Give him a sec; he was right behind me," Louie said. "Took the long way around the merry-go-round. He'll probably have a whole pack of Beagle Boys behind him though, so be sure you're ready to move."

"Yes sir, Louie sir!" Launchpad answered, keeping his hand on the gear shift.

And so, they waited. But no one else, Beagle or otherwise, came out of the fairgrounds after Louie reunited with the group. Launchpad instructed them to stay in the car while he went to go get Dewey, and the children continued to wait with bated breath, refusing to allow _what ifs_ to creep into their minds. It wasn't until the pilot returned, discarded red hat in hand, that Webby realized something had gone very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me four freaking months! I have such a hard time writing action, and this chapter needed me to do that, so I just kept hitting creative walls. Normally I get a piece of writing out in one or two sessions, but Chapter 5 here is the result of at least a _dozen_ writing sessions.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing in a bunch of different Beagle Boys, but I feel like I probably overdid it, so sorry if that's the case. Also, when I started writing this we had only ever seen Louie with a phone, so I'd just assumed no one else had one yet. Oh, and Launchpad was so much fun to write! I don't really have a lot for him to do, plot-wise, but I hope I can keep finding ways to use him.
> 
> Apologies in advance for how long it will probably take me to get the next chapter up. I'd like to say it'll be down before the New Year, but why set you up for disappointment? All I can promise is that the next chapter will definitely come; I'm a procrastinator, not a quitter! 
> 
> Lastly, a steady diet of reviews is very beneficial to the overall health of a fanfiction ;)
> 
> Lots of love until next time, and happy holidays!


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